Miniskirts Forever
by ollaneve
Summary: "I didn't hear Soda get up to go back to his room, so I assumed he had stayed with Ponyboy...I kept running his words back and across my mind, "somethin' ain't right". I knew what he meant, and the answer made me sad, almost sadder than my parents being dead. He meant that I didn't feel right, that after all this time away, I wasn't like family anymore, I was an outsider." sis-fic.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter One**

 _ **Apparition**_

Mom was the only real proof I had that Dallas was an idiot when it came to women. In the 14 years that she was a part of my life, I spent about three quarters of my time watching her. Often she would be puttering around the kitchen, while the boys and dad roughhoused in the den. The house was a small space to begin with, but with the boundaries set by the sheer amount of testosterone at any given point, it was compact enough to drive me crazy.

There were places I never went, mom occasionally, but hesitantly, Darry and Soda's room, Ponyboy's, the backyard, and then the den. The boys never said anything about it, never bothered to ask for alone time, so I was always dying to know when the madness began. Had I lived with this segregation my entire life? Was it something mom just expected once she realized her first child, and then second, would be boys? Well, I finally decided to just ask her.

"Oh, dear, that's just how it is…just how they like it." She gave me her _knowing_ look, the one where she lowered her chin, and observed you playfully through her eyelashes. "Don't you like being in the kitchen with me?"

I loved her for that, one of the _few_ things she did that encouraged it, and for that I felt it tenfold. I really couldn't believe she would say that to me, like her restlessness didn't exceed mine, that I never saw her wringing her hands, staring at the pile of freshly washed dishes, wishing there were more, that there were more distractions, that I never noticed when she would look out the window above the sink, wishing she'd never made that road trip from Maryland.

The boys would drop into our little world when they wanted cake or Pepsi, or wanted to know if mom would do them a _real solid_ and toss their jeans in the wash, grass-stained from football. She was pleasant, excessive almost, in the lengths she would go to just to play the loving mother, the cordial housewife. For that, I disdained her.

But Dallas, Dallas always stuck around an extra five, extra ten, I always knew something was up when it went past 30, and then I'd be sent to fetch milk or eggs from down the street. And of all of them she chose _Dallas_ , the wiry delinquent, not good looking or tall enough for most girls to take a second glance.

Chose, yes she chose him, like dad, like whatever guy coughed up the gas money to drive her cross country. She could have had anyone, but she didn't fancy just _anyone_. Cowboys, maybe that's why she bothered heading west at all, she wanted a Clint Eastwood, and instead she got some half-Cherokee farm hand. Well, that was good enough for her.

I knew she liked Dallas' recklessness, but to what end I was never sure. They only ever talked, low enough that it stayed between them. I saw them touch only once, the night he screwed himself over badly enough to earn nine months in the reformatory. Part of me thought he was in love with her, in love with the idea of someone outside his world of rumbles.

"You got one helluva mom, you understand?" He'd say as he cast a meaningful look at me, in my seat at the kitchen table, like I was some ungrateful brat.

If only he knew what he was to her, a distraction. If only I had told him the truth, and been able to see some emotion besides anger register on his face, rejection, hurt, maybe.

I liked the thought of honesty, of being an honest person. And if I'm being honest, I hated it, being in the kitchen with mom. I hated being with her anywhere.

* * *

It's odd to finally confess that I felt a strange kind of hope when she died. I thought, finally, all those things we had in common would dissipate, the restlessness and selfishness was something of hers that must have just rubbed off on me, from sticking so close to her side all those years.

That hope endured, even when social services came to tell us that a girl couldn't be raised by her 20-year-old brother, when mom's cousin in Tennessee offered to take me in. I'm sorry to say Dallas and Johnny's deaths happened at a pretty opportune time. I got the sympathy vote with my new guardians, Jeanie and Don, but mostly Jeanie. The social worker took some time to make a decision, but I got the news I wanted. I would spend the summer at home, in Tulsa.

Even though I hated Murfreesboro, I was thankful for Jeanie. Under her roof, I finally felt like I could be the girl that the guy's at school would whisper about, the kind of girl Angela Shepard was effortlessly. Mom was from an upper class family, so she always had a certain expectation, for how I should dress, and walk, and talk. I also knew that if I had been allowed to stay at home for that year, I would have been on an even tighter leash than before.

Jeanie really was something else, young for one, very young. After about a week there, I surmised that the only reason she offered to take me in was to have a doll to dress up. She gave me all the sweaters, blouses, and miniskirts that I asked for, and makeup, all the makeup she put on me. So it was no surprise that when I turned up on the doorstep of my old house, in the middle of June, that Ponyboy blinked like he didn't recognize me, that Two-Bit's eyes raked me up and down the way I'd only ever seen him do to girls at the Ribbon—the few times they let me tag along.

I knew I looked good, my hair long, my skin dark, a tan deeper than I remembered Darry ever having. I expected Two-Bit to have a certain look in his eyes, once they came back up to meet mine, surprise maybe, desire, but I found myself disappointed. He looked at me like he had always looked at me, like a kid.

He elbowed Ponyboy's side, and pretend-whispered through the side of his mouth, "Pone, what's this greasy chick doing on your porch?" He barely got the tail end of that sentence out, because I had bounded up the steps and smacked the side of his arm with my purse.

"Why don't you make yourself useful and help me with my bag?"

He cackled at that, and elbowed Pony for the second time. "You heard _the lady_ , hop to it, kid."

Pony stood up, put out his cigarette, then seemed to hesitate once he made eye contact with me again. It was only when I opened my arms wide and said, "Get in here, Hot Shot," that he embraced me. The hug was distant, unsure, which I had expected, given that it was Ponyboy. "Jeez, you must've shot up a whole head—how tall are you now?"

He rubbed the back of his neck, smiling at the ground, "Six foot".

I smirked at that, knowing that Soda was probably steaming about their now nonexistent height difference.

Ponyboy stooped down to take my old canvas bag off my shoulder, Two-Bit opened the screen door of the house, and then the smell of it all hit me. It was hot, so the scent of our wooden floors and wool rugs wafted throughout the house. The lump in my throat formed first, thankfully, giving me enough time to suffocate any tears that would've pooled in my eyes. I hadn't smelled home since a month after the accident, I had almost forgotten it.

Everything looked more or less the same, I could feel part of me waiting for my parents to step out of the kitchen to greet me, but the more observant part noticed a sort of emptiness that lingered in the air. Darry kept things tidy, I could see, but it wasn't the same. I thought, maybe it could never be home again.

Ponyboy headed down the hall to my room, and looked back at me questioningly when I didn't follow.

I cleared my throat and pointed my thumb toward the kitchen, "I'm just gonna grab a glass of water." He shrugged and kept walking.

"We thought you weren't gettin' in 'til tonight, 'Lil Lizzy." Two-Bit spoke from the doorway, while I held a glass under the faucet.

"Yeah, I caught an earlier bus…just…felt antsy, ya know?" I turned to face him, leaning my back against the counter. Maybe he hadn't expected me to turn around before I took my first sip, but I had seen him. He had been raking me up and down once more, I caught his eyes just as they left my ass; maybe I wasn't so much of a kid to him. "You been lookin' after things around here?"

He put his hands on his waist and donned an overtly-feminine tone, "Why do ya think it looks so clean, darlin'." He cracked a lopsided grin when I held my stomach and laughed. "I sure have been lookin' out for your kid brother," he added, right as Ponyboy, who cocked an eyebrow, walked in behind him.

"He need lookin' out for?"

Ponyboy blushed and tilted his head toward the ceiling, groaning like he knew exactly what was coming. Two-Bit scoffed and took the seat at the kitchen table nearest to me, "Does he ever, you should see all the chicks that hang on him now, latest one was—"

"Come on, man," Pony attempted to cut him off.

"Angela Shepard."

I baulked at him and cast a bewildered look at Pony, "You been busy while I've been gone, huh?"

I raised my eyebrows and smiled at him, he didn't smile back. His grey-green eyes, my mother's eyes, searched my face with abandon, something he never would have done before, but I couldn't blame him for this knew disregard of his shyness, to him I was a stranger.

* * *

The most spectacular hello didn't come until past six that evening. Soda had only seen me for a total of five seconds, before he had slung me over his shoulder and spun around in circles fast enough that I couldn't stand on both feet once they hit the ground again. He grasped me in a tight hug before I could topple over.

"'Lil Lizzy, I sure did miss you." He chuckled as I tried to wriggle out of his grasp, once he finally let me go I hit him lightly in the stomach, unable to get rid of the grin cracked across my cheeks. "Speaking of," he looked me up and down, "what have you done with my baby sister?"

"I ain't your baby sister no more," I attempted to say cheekily, but when the words hit the air, they sounded sad, reminding us of the time we lost.

"I think you might be right about that, honey."

Darry's greeting was a whole different story. He must've gone out for drinks with some of his roofing buddies after work, he got in half past ten to find me sitting on the back porch, a cigarette held between my middle and index finger.

He stared at it pointedly, "Pony let you have one of his?"

"It's mine."

"Jeanie and Don let you get away with stuff like this?"

"Gave me my first pack," I said through an exhale of smoke, which probably wasn't a good idea in hindsight.

He plucked it out of my hand and crushed on the ground with the heal of his boot, then gestured at me, "What about that getup?"

"All Jeanie."

I expected to hear some lecture about how mom would have disapproved, which Pony told me he had received a lot of since Darry became his legal guardian. But he nudged me over and sat beside me on the step. I almost thought he might ask for a cigarette, but he didn't.

"So you're all grown up now, huh?" I stared back, silent, so he chuckled and turned to look at our measly excuse for a backyard. "Hell, lookin' at you now, feels like you been gone years…still chewin' your fingernails I see." He held my hand up in front of my face, and finally I laughed with him, then pulled my wrist out of his grasp and away from him.

"Oh, shut up, you used to do the same thing."

"Did not."

"Did too."

He shook his head and stood up, brushing his hands off on the back of his jeans. "You ain't gonna be smokin' no more, not while you're here," he pointed his finger at me and I opened my mouth incredulously.

"You ain't my boss."

He snorted. "Ladies don't smoke, 'Lil Lizzy."


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

 _ **Solidify**_

 _"Whatever, I don't care," I moved away from where she stood by my dresser, "have fun." Suddenly the Seventeen magazine lying open on my bed was very interesting. I took my sweet time to flip through the pages with the beauty plans, and looked up after about a minute of loaded silence._

 _I immediately recognized the hurt expressed on Sandy's face, her shoulders and arms were frozen in a shrug. This only made me more annoyed, like she was the one allowed to be mad in this situation._

 _"What?" I snapped._

 _She scoffed and furrowed her brow at me, "You know, you're only angry because you want to go so bad, but they'd never ask you."_

 _We met eyes then, hers widened at first, maybe taken aback by what she said, but returned to normal just as quickly. I sat on the bed becoming more embarrassed by the second, because what she said was true, all I wanted in the world was to be included on their adventures, but they'd never give the idea a second thought._

 _By the time I finally cracked, I had enough anger building up inside me to boil water, "I hope you really enjoy this one time, Sandy, 'cause once my brother gets you to suck his dick he'll never ask you again."_

 _She was out the door before I even finished my sentence, which filled me with some sick sort of satisfaction, knowing that I had wounded her too. It wasn't even that fight that ruined our friendship, and changed everything. It was because I was wrong. It was because he loved her._

* * *

By the time I left the DX, the Friday after I got back to Tulsa, I felt a certainty that the stars were finally aligning in my favor. I entered the main shop of the gas station just looking for a Pepsi and a quick visit with Soda, but I left with the possibility of the life that I had always craved as a middle-schooler. I saw her as soon as I opened the door, she was hard to miss despite her petite frame, maybe it was because of her ink black hair, or her vibrant blue eyes. Only Ponyboy would have the good sense to reject her.

Before my parents died, I would have cast her a quick smile, if she even bothered to acknowledge my presence, but I made a decision right then and there, the summer of '65 would be different. Little did I know how right I would be.

I lit myself a cigarette, brushed all of my hair in front of my left shoulder, and made my way over to Angela Shepard.

"Didn't think I'd see you here. What? One Curtis ain't enough?" I called out cheekily. She had been leaning against the counter, next to two other girls, flirting with whatever preteen guy they had hired to man the register.

I never would be able to forget the way her black curls went flying, as she whipped her head to look at me over her shoulder. She had her mouth in a tuff pout, the end of a lollipop sticking out of the right side. Her eyes took me in, I tried not to shift my feet as her gaze lingered on my kitten heels for a second longer. She didn't say anything after, just shot me an even warier expression, and I worried that perhaps she didn't know who I was.

I moved further into the store until I was only a few feet away from her, "Cigarette?" I offered.

She accepted it, her mouth forming something between a smile and a smirk, which almost set me at ease. She let herself exhale a small cloud of smoke, before saying, "Haven't seen your brother in a while, he used to come down to the Ribbon all the time with that Two-Bit character, now I hear he's moved on to Buck's."

I took the opportunity to prop my elbow on the counter next to her. "You're kidding." Her smile widened. "My big brother would keel over if you told him that."

"Just what I've heard," she flicked the ashes of her cigarette onto the tile floor, then smiled sweetly at the cashier when he attempted to protest, shutting him up quickly. "You wanna come over? We were gonna do nails and get hammered."

I walked back outside with Angela and the two other girls, one I recognized as Steve's girlfriend Evie, the other was older, with flaming red hair and a pretty pink tinge to her skin. I followed them over to a black Chevy. Soda was fueling up a brown Cordoba at the pump next to us, he moved his ball cap further back on his head and looked at me like I was a crazy person when I sat down in the back seat.

Angela settled in behind the wheel, started the car, revved the engine, then pulled out of the gas station quickly, her tires squealing in protest. Evie sat next to me, she nudged me with her elbow and grinned as she brought a silver flask out of her purse. I took a couple of swigs once she handed it to me, and laughed when Angela and the redhead started belting out the lyrics to "I Got You Babe".

* * *

It was always safe for me to pine after Tim Shepard, we had never actually been in the same room together, so I never had to worry that my brothers would catch me ogling. Maybe that's why I never thought twice about Dally, as far as my brothers were concerned, he was off limits. It's embarrassing to say, but I had this entire person fleshed out in my mind that definitely wasn't the real leader of the Shepard gang. What he wanted, what he felt, his whole world, and I knew that it was pathetic, that there was no way Tim was actually a hopeless romantic deep down inside, but I still fantasized.

The Shepard's house was more run down than ours, without a porch, I guessed that Tim's mother never bothered to weed or mow the lawn the way Darry did. The outside was an earthy brick, with a haphazardly patched roof, a roof in need of patching most likely due to the old growth cluster of pines right beside their left wall.

I was starting to feel the whiskey softening the edges of my vision, as I walked up the steps and through Angela's front door, which was already open. The entryway, if it could even be called that, split off into a hallway to the kitchen on the left, and a door to the bathroom on the right. Straight ahead was the den, in which there were two people sitting, a dark haired boy, the back of his head facing me, and a greasy chick, with pointy, red, nails. The sharp queasiness of anticipation rose in my chest, because part of me was dying for it to be Tim, and part of me knew that I _would_ die if it was Tim.

The dark haired boy heard the door slam, and turned his head lazily so that he could cock an eyebrow at us. It was Curly Shepard, the wily kid who had almost burned a hole through my little brother's finger, the kid who was dumb enough to think that climbing a flag pole was cool enough to justify a broken arm.

"Ang, how many fuckin'…don't close the damn door, it's hot as balls in here." The girl sitting next to him tried in vain to bring his attention back to her, after he had removed his arm from around her shoulders.

Angela eyed the two, planting her hands on her waist. "Well, I like it closed, all you're doin' is lettin' hotter air into the house." She nodded her head at Evie and the redhead, who began to walk up the stairs.

I started to follow after Angela, and was halfway up the stairs when I heard Curly say, "Good to have you back, Curtis." His side profile was to me, his girl's hands stroking his jaw, their noses inches apart, but I knew he was side-eyeing me, looking at me just before she kissed him.

* * *

"Maybe I'll paint my nails all red and tacky like Darla's _._ " Angela said before taking a long mouthful from a bottle of bourbon. Evie laughed hard enough to drape herself over the redhead's lap, who I learned was named Tricia.

I was having a rough go at painting my toe nails, and could barely manage to finish my right foot after the four shots I had taken once we got to the room. My hand trembled as I moved to finish the big toe of my left foot, and I smeared nail polish all over myself. "Shit," I hissed.

Angela laughed her machine-gun-laugh that I was still getting used to, and clapped her hands like a seal. "Girl, you should just give u—", she hiccupped, "—no way you're gonna finish that."

I took the bottle out of Angela's hand and took a swig, that I could hardly keep down. I started to feel woozy once I set the bottle down on the carpeted floor, the smell of nail polish and alcohol burning my nostrils. I reached into my purse for a cigarette, and only then realized that I had given Angela my last one.

I stood up too abruptly and toppled back into Angela's closet. I righted my self as best I could, ignoring the three girls laughing at me. "I need some air." I straightened my miniskirt, and kept my fingertips on the wall just so I wouldn't trip down the stairs and break my neck.

I noticed Curly and his chick were no longer in the den, as I made my way to the screen door to the backyard. I squinted my eyes at the afternoon sun, and leaned against the back of the house.

"Uh-oh, 'Lil Lizzy's wasted." I heard Curly say to my left. It had been so bright outside I hadn't even noticed him lounging in a lawn chair, puffing cigarette smoke.

"Mind if I bum one?"

He got up then, walked over to me with a cocky look on his face, which could have worked on me had I not known what and idiot he was. He handed me his and I took a long drag, the nicotine making me feel heavy and relaxed.

"You know, only my brothers call me that." He looked at me hungrily as I took another inhale.

"Two-Bit ain't your brother." He said, still staring at me, then he leant down as I exhaled, close enough to my mouth that I flinched. His shotgun inhale left me feeling nauseous, and antsy, all I could think about was how much I wanted to go home.

Curly couldn't seem to gauge the uneasiness in my eyes, as he moved his thumb, under my shirt and along the bottom of my bra. I took another drag from his cigarette, feeling the rush of tobacco mixing with alcohol, I felt weighty again, and let myself go numb. Curly stooped his head down, brushing his lips against my neck, and I sighed.

* * *

I couldn't quite figure out, or remember, how I had wound up at Buck's. After Curly got to third base, we intercepted Angela and the girls walking down the stairs, and the next thing I knew we were pulling into a gravel lot outside of the old roadhouse.

There were packs of people lounging out front on the hoods of cars, people dangling their legs out windows on the top floor. I felt less sick than before, but not at all mentally prepared to walk through the door and into the mass of noise that awaited me on the other side. Curly didn't give me much of a choice though, he stood close behind me, his arms holding my waist, and moved me into the house, toward the bar.

A voice broke out from the crowd and bellowed, "Heya, Curly." And then we started moving toward a table against the far wall.

I managed to dig my heels in once we made it halfway across the room, and he granted me a brief pause.

"I'm gonna get somethin' to drink," I turned to look up at him. He nodded then planted a deep kiss on me before I could back away. I started to get angry when I heard the catcalls coming from around the room, mostly because I knew that it was his intention to receive them. He gave me a pat on the rear before brushing past me. I knew the alcohol had taken the fight out of me, I started to wish that I hadn't drank so much that day.

Had I known who was waiting for me at the bar, I wouldn't have gone anywhere near it. I glanced up just in time to see Two-Bit looking stern, his grey eyes stormy, something so unusual of him. I tried to think of an escape as quickly as possible, but he had me by the shoulder before I could make a run for it.

"What the hell do you think you're doin' here?" The harshness of his voice caught me off guard, and I tried not to shrink away from him.

I mustered up the courage to say, "I'm just tryin' to get a drink, Two-Bit, I don't need you to play the Curtis Guardian right now." He almost smiled at that, and I hoped that I had softened his resolve enough that he wouldn't care to tell Darry.

"Nice try, 'Lil Lizzy, I'm drivin' you home, come on." He led me away from the bar and back outside. I felt a surge of relief upon realizing I wouldn't have to put up with anymore advances from Curly that night, no doubt he would have wanted to take me upstairs into a vacant bedroom toward the end of the night. I squeezed my eyes shut at the thought.

Two-Bit opened the passenger side door for me, and shut it once I brought my right leg into his car, which made me roll my eyes, as if I was going to try to run back into Buck's.

It wasn't until he had shifted comfortably into the driver's seat, and started the car that he cast me a sideways glance and asked, "You been drinkin' with Angela Shepard?"

"Why'd you think that?"

"A little birdy told me, that they saw you left the DX with the witch herself." He kept his gaze ahead as we pulled out of the parking lot.

"Soda told you…yeah, yeah I was drinkin' with her, big fuckin' deal."

"I'm sure your big brothers'll feel the same way."

I groaned and rested the back of my neck on the head rest. "Please, Two-Bit, please don't tell Darry."

"I wouldn't," he cast me a pointed look, "Only I saw you with Curly Shepard back there, and I think I'd rather your big brother lay into you now, than have to put up with that little shit suckin' your face for the rest of the summer."

"Believe me, Curly and I ain't ever gonna cross paths after today."

He lit the cigarette that he had stashed behind his ear, taking a drag before he said playfully, "Well I don't believe you, you're like a different person since you been back."

"Maybe I am…could I have one of those?"

He chuckled, then gestured to his glove box where I found a full pack. He watched me from the time I brought one to my lips and let loose my first exhale, then he turned back to the road, shaking his head and smiling.

"Jesus, I should'a known the trouble you'd be this summer, since the day you got back I should'a known. You had that little skirt on," he nodded his head toward my lap, "man, if I was your big brothers, I'd be shakin' in my britches."


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

 _ **Surface**_

That night, Two-Bit went so far as to walk me to my front door. At first, I hoped that it was just because he thought I might make one last ditch effort to bolt. But when he followed me inside, I knew that I was done for. I closed my eyes right after I entered, inhaled deeply through my nose, savoring the day that I had experienced, the freedom that I had felt, because Darry was about to make all of that go away.

But when I opened my eyes, my eldest brother was nowhere in sight. Instead, Soda sat on our sofa, his elbows wresting on his knees, his forearms dangling in between his widespread legs. I would have breathed a sigh of relief, laughed even, but he looked at me with the sternest expression I had ever seen on his handsome face.

Two-Bit plopped down in dad's old recliner, and motioned for me to step further into the room with a curl of his fingers. "Superman, around?" He dug into the front pocket of his jeans and produced a small flask, Irish whiskey no doubt, Two-Bit always loved his sweet things

Soda tapped his palms together, which was the only tell I could gather of his hesitancy. "Work thing," his brown eyes were alarmingly intense as he stared me down, "Ponyboy's out with friends, and Steve went to meet up with Evie. I stayed here in case _you'd_ call for a ride." He waved his hand in my direction, then cast a look at Two-Bit.

Two-Bit shook his flask, whether he was pretending it was empty or not, I couldn't tell. "I'm gonna snag a beer. Soda?" He looked to my brother once he managed to stand up from the recliner. Soda gave his head one firm shake, and Two-Bit disappeared into the kitchen.

I didn't bother to take a seat, or walk any further into the situation, bound to end with me grounded. This didn't seem to discourage Soda one bit. He stood up from the sofa, and started to take slow steps toward me, speaking lowly as he did.

"What have you gotten up to tonight, Lizzy?"

I wrapped my arms around my stomach, feeling nauseous again. "I was out with friends, just like Ponyboy."

"So, you and Angela are friends now?"

He was close enough by then that I had to look up to meet his gaze, which I did, finally feeling my heat return. "I guess so. What, am I not allowed to have friends anymore?" He laughed sarcastically. "That another new rule? I stay locked up in here like Rapunzel?"

"Don't make this about us, Lizzy."

"You'd like that wouldn't you, it'd be just like the good old days, I'd stay with mom in the kitchen and you'd only ever see me when you felt hungry enough." I said so sharply that his eyes widened, but his brow remained furrowed.

"What the hell are you even talking about? We don't give a flyin' fuck what you do, s'long as it's not with a Shepard."

"That's a load of bullshit, Soda, and you know it."

"Hey," he raised his voice in a good attempt to startle me, but I had never learned to fear him the way that I had Darry, "Don't you use that language with me, Elizabeth."

"You ain't my boss!"

He made a noise akin to a growl, and brought up his clenched fists in between us, stooping down more, a condescending way to retain my attention. "I am sick and tired of you actin' like some bossy little princess. You weren't like this, Lizzy, you didn't mouth off, you didn't smoke, and you sure as hell wouldn't ever wear somethin' like that."

I finally exploded. "Oh yeah? Well, did it ever occur to y'all that you don't know a thing about me? Huh? Always so busy with your girls and your rumbles, did it ever occur to you that we've been strangers our whole lives?

"Dad's dead, but that does _not_ make you or Darry my father. I've been gone almost a year," I tried to say without tearing up, but I could feel the emotion welling at my bottom lash line, "a fuckin' _year_ and you think I'm gonna start listenin' to y'all like Pony?" His head hung from his shoulders; I couldn't see if his eyes were closed or not. His hands rested on his hips, something dad used to do when he was upset.

"I've been takin' care of myself for months now, so don't think you can pull this shit with me." I wasn't able to hold my tears back anymore. I felt my lib tremble, and barely managed to squeeze out my next sentence in a shaky breath. "Because I was all alone, Soda," he brought his left hand up to rub his forehead, "I needed y'all after the accident, but I was all alone."

I held my face in my hands, embarrassed for him to see me cry. I was shaking from my effort to hold in my sobs, when he pulled me into a gentle hug, and rested his chin on the top of my head. I attempted to exhale then inhale, but it all came out in a strangled gasp. His hold on me tightened.

"That's what we're tryin' to do now, sweetheart, look after you."

We stayed in that position for what felt like a long time. Soda stroked my hair, and I kept hoping that he would know I was drunk, that it was the reason for my emotional outburst. I quit crying quickly, but said nothing else, even though I wanted to. Even though I wanted to tell him it was too late.

* * *

I didn't wake up with a hangover that morning, I was never prone to them. I did wake up feeling as though I hadn't had a proper drink of water in days, so I climbed out of bed, and to the nearest faucet, in the hall bathroom we all shared. I held my head in the sink, and took desperate gulps from the stream of water. I brushed my teeth while I was there, and tried to avoid my reflection in the mirror. I had the good sense the night before to change into a comfortable set of pajamas, but was apparently too lazy to wash off my makeup. Mascara and eyeliner had smeared beneath my eyes, so I washed my face in case Darry was already awake.

I tiptoed back to my room, and relaxed once I saw the clock on my bedside table read 5:30 am. I couldn't remember whether Ponyboy told me that Darry worked Saturday mornings or afternoons, so I settled back in under my covers and nestled my head down into my pillow. I tried to fall back to sleep, but memories from the day before kept sticking to the forefront of my mind, making me cringe.

I remembered how I blew up at Soda during our fight, and cried into his chest in a drunken mess. I groaned and threw an arm over my eyes, realizing that he would have a conversation with Darry about it, and that they'd treat me like crystal instead of china. Neither of them knew about Curly and I, unless Two-Bit had tattled after Soda had walked me to my bedroom.

Curly Shepard, an image of him pressing me against the back wall of his house ran across my conscious, and I shuddered. It wasn't because of Curly, for all his shortcomings he was harmless, actually more adept with the female anatomy than one would guess. But every time he kissed me, every time he touched me, I would think of Don, and then no amount of pleasure could distract me from the sick sensation crawling up my throat. Whenever I thought of Don, I experienced a kind of emptiness, so powerful that my limbs stopped feeling like my own.

* * *

The next time I woke up it was 7:00. I put on a worn in pair of blue jeans and a red t-shirt. I started thinking that it would be a good idea for me to cook my brothers breakfast, good graces and all, but when I made my way into the kitchen, Ponyboy was already standing over the stove.

I rubbed my palms down the front of my pants, and took the seat farthest from my little brother. I knew he had heard me walk in, our floorboards were creaky enough, but he didn't say anything.

"Never though I'd see the day you'd cook." I said finally.

"Nobody else around to do it." He responded, without looking back at me.

I smirked. "You mean _I_ wasn't around to do it?"

"Don't flatter yourself," he brought one of the pans he had been hovering over to the table, scraping the scrambled eggs he had made onto a plate. "If there's one thing I didn't miss, it was tryin' to choke down your potpie."

I scoffed and he smiled to himself, moving back over to the stove, to a skillet I assumed he was cooking pancakes in.

"So, why are you up so early?" I asked.

"Goin' for a run, thought I'd cook Darry breakfast before he heads out."

I got up to rummage through our cabinets in search of the coffee, something to tide me over long enough so Ponyboy wouldn't be around to see me go out for a cigarette. I had my back turned to him the next time he spoke.

"You been out with Curly Shepard?"

I closed the cabinets softly, having found what I was looking for, but didn't turn around to look at him. The coffee pot was just slightly to my left. "Where'd you hear that from?"

"Got some buddies who were at Buck's last night, all got to see your little show." At that point I did turn around to face him, but he was still watching his pancakes, spatula poised to flip another. My pulse thumped in my ears, he had never had this attitude with me before.

"I'm surprised I didn't see you there." He must've heard the burning tone of my voice, as he turned around to meet my eyes, finally looking a little sheepish. "So, it's true then."

"You go too."

"I'm not fourteen and wet behind the ears." He looked back to the stove, ears tinged red. I felt a twang of guilt pinching at my gut, and thought maybe I'd spoke too harshly.

I gave an attempt at a weak smile and made my tone as playful as possible. "Angela says hi by the way, misses seeing you down at the Ribbon." I watched him shake his head, turning the stove off.

"Yeah, well I don't miss seeing her." I laughed.

We moved around the kitchen in mostly comfortable silence after that. Eventually I sat back down at the table with my mug of coffee, just in time for me to watch Darry stomp into the room, take a look at all of the food laid out on the table, and shoot a fond smile Pony's way. Something told me this wasn't an unusual occurrence.

He glanced at me and raised his eyebrows once he sat down at the head of the table. "You're up early."

I tried not to stiffen. Had Soda already ratted me out to Darry?

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"You're serious?" I maintained my blank stare and he snorted to himself. "If you ever had to get up before 11, dad had to drag you out of bed."

"I went to bed pretty early last night, I guess."

Darry shoveled a fork full of eggs into his mouth. "Yeah about that," he swallowed and took a few moments before speaking, rubbing his fingertips together like he used to when dad would quiz him for a test. "We should talk when I get home later."

Ponyboy paused mid-bite to look between the two of us. I had a right mind to kick him underneath the table, he looked more suspicious than I did. "About what?"

"Oh, Soda just said, you know…that you said some things to him…about being away."

I chuckled. "Oh, Dar, that's really not a big deal. We don't need to talk about it."

"I don't know about that, Lizzy, Soda said you were really…uh, upset, and if you, you know…are havin' problems, then," he looked up to find me holding back a grin, "oh to hell with it, talk to Soda or Pone if you're sad, come to me if you need someone beaten up—got it?"

I raised my eyebrows and laughed. "I guess so." I looked to Ponyboy so that we could shake our heads at our eldest brother together, but he didn't look amused.

The look in his eyes was the same one he had the day I got back into town; unnerving and inquisitive, searching, like I was hiding something from him. Which I was, I was hiding something from all of them.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

 _ **Liberate**_

 _The second night that I was back it happened. I figured that I was safe to smoke a cigarette on our back steps at three o'clock in the morning, something to keep my thoughts from multiplying and burning up my brain. I had been about to take another drag when I heard it, a loud creak from the open window in Ponyboy and Soda's room, then urgent gasps. I knew what was happening before the sound of Soda's gentle voice filtered into the backyard, carried by the damp air. I tucked the piece of hair framing the right side of my face behind my ear so I could hear them better._

 _"Pone—hey, hey, hey," he sounded slightly out of breath, he must have run down the hallway once he heard the noises. Soda always was a light sleeper._

 _"I-I'm OK, Soda, just…spooked a little…"_

 _The bed creaked again, and I imagined Soda scooting closer to Ponyboy and wrapping an arm around his shoulders. Pony would let his head fall limp toward his chest so that could Soda could ruffle is strawberry blonde hair. I had seen them in that position enough times to picture it more vividly than I could picture my mother and father kissing each other goodbye._

 _"Well, you got me spooked." Soda attempted a lighthearted chuckle. "'S been a while since you've had a nightmare…you remember it?"_

 _Ponyboy sighed. "Sort of, I think mom and dad were there…somebody was leavin', but…I needed to get them to stay…I could never get to 'em, though."_

 _"Do you think," he paused, "do you think it might…have to do with Lizzy…bein' back 'n all."_

 _I jerked my head in the direction of their window then, my heartbeat moving up into my throat._

 _Ponyboy waited a few beats before he spoke again. "Yeah…ever since she got back…I just feel all messed up inside…like somethin' ain't right…"_

 _"Like somethin' ain't right with Lizzy?"_

 _"I…I'm not sure…" I turned back to look at our backyard after that, not bothering to listen to the rest of the conversation. It stung, it stung to hear that my presence seemed to have such a negative affect on my little brother._

 _I sat out there for another half an hour, whole hour maybe. I didn't hear Soda get up to go back to his room, so I assumed he had stayed with Ponyboy, and the two of them had fallen asleep together._

 _I kept running his words back and across my mind;_ "somethin' ain't right". _I knew what he meant, and the answer made me sad, almost sadder than my parents being dead. He meant that_ I _didn't feel right, that after all this time away, I wasn't like family anymore, I was an outsider._

* * *

Funny enough, it was the distance we lived with as children that kept Soda from ratting me out to Darry. I guess he just wasn't use to anyone dealing with my discipline except mom. I always got a front row seat for their punishments. Dad was a yeller, anyone living on our street would know just how many weeks Darry or Soda would have to clean the dishes, once they had pushed him far enough. Mom liked to handle things behind closed doors, usually in my room, sometimes in the kitchen if she knew no one was home, very rarely did she take me into her room to do it.

When I was younger, she favored a belt to the back of the legs, or to my bare stomach. After a while, the sting of the leather lost its effect, so she resolved to more verbal punishments, more psychological fear tactics, which she was always more suited for. I remembered the first time she caught me wearing my skirt rolled up, she told me if I ever dressed like a harlot again that she'd make me walk around the neighborhood in my underwear. She said if I wanted to act like a strumpet, then that's what she'd make me. She meant every word of it too.

Since Darry wasn't wary of me over the drinking incident, he didn't spare any second thoughts about leaving me home alone on the weekdays. After that Friday, I could tell that Soda wanted to object, but he had never been the confrontational type, so I was left to my own devices while the two of them worked, and Ponyboy went down to the track.

I didn't aim to misbehave, I really took what Soda said during our argument to heart, that I had been acting like a "bossy little princess". I was my mother's daughter, through and through, so as I sat on our front porch, watching the day go by, my cigarette burning out, I felt a familiar restlessness. It was like a fizzing ball of energy building up inside me, which I used to be able to quell, from all the years of being under my mother's thumb. It seemed that I lost that endurance during the months I lived with Jeanie.

In the end it wasn't left up to me what I did, not _really_. A black chevy pulled up parallel to the curb in front of my house, and the beautiful head of Angela Shepard stuck out the backseat window. She shot me her wicked Shepard grin, and called out, "Get in, ya damsel."

I didn't bother to go inside to grab my purse, only grabbing my pack of kools and lighter from the arm of the chair I sat in, fearing that they would drive away if I took too long.

Curly Shepard sat in the driver's seat, and shot me a smirk, which made me want to roll my eyes. Next to him was a chick I had never met, with nicely styled dirty-blonde hair, and dark eyebrows, pretty in a charismatic sort of way, like she belonged on the red carpet. She didn't bother to look my way, and busied herself with finding a decent radio station.

Angela was still leaning out the window and grinning by the time that I reached her.

"Who you callin' damsel?" I grinned back at her.

She reached for my pack of cigarettes. "Oh, I just recall you sayin' something last weekend, 'bout how your brothers keep you under lock and key." _I did?_ I thought. She wrinkled her nose at the emptiness of our house. "Want us to take you somewhere more fast-paced?"

After our argument, Soda didn't seem too keen to give up his new authoritarian big-brother act, if anything he felt he needed to protect me more _._ If he knew that I went off to hang out with Angela _and_ Curly Shepard, again, then he would have no qualms about telling Darry about my latest adventures. I knew that this time, I'd have to be more careful, I'd need to keep an eye out for the gang, so my fun wouldn't be ruined by the _sidekicks._

Fortunately for me, I had always been a decent liar.

* * *

Curly parked us in the vacant lot behind a warehouse, somewhere a few blocks from downtown. The girl sitting in the passenger seat didn't say anything on the drive there, Curly and Angela bickered about everything under the sun, the song on the radio, whether the windows should be up or down, the fastest way to get where we were going, etc.

I turned to Angela once we had all exited the car, "So much for fast-paced, huh?"

"Be patient, baby," Curly said, whilst grabbing a paper bag out of the trunk, "this is just a rendezvous."

Once the blonde heard "baby", she began to look me up and down. There was something off about her, it wasn't until she was out of the car that I could take in her clean clothes, polished shoes, and the condescending arch of her eyebrow. Her fingernails weren't even painted. She was a soc.

She plastered an obviously fake smile on her face, and held out her hand to me. "We haven't officially met, I'm Margaret."

I shook her hand hesitantly. "Lizzy."

"So how do you know Charles?"

I looked toward Angela with a cocked eyebrow, and the two of us tried not to snicker. "He and my little brother buddy around."

"Enough small talk," Curly cut in, his mood must've gone sour once he heard Margaret call him _Charles_. Curly faced the back of the warehouse, where a rusty door shrieked open, two hard looking greasers walked out. They moved toward us with the same loping slouch all the Shepard boys used. Neither of them were anything to look at, at least not compared to my brothers, but both appeared lean and strong. I narrowed my eyes, wondering what the Shepards had in mind that they needed back up for.

I started to direct my perplexed expression at Angela, but Curly moved toward me, his hand holding the paper bag outstretched. "Drink up." I took the bag, grasping the neck of the bottle inside. I hesitated to take a sip, so Curly raised his eyebrows, they disappeared underneath his bangs until I complied, then he grinned at me. "Good girl."

That time I did roll my eyes, and took three real swigs, because if Curly was going to keep up his Casanova act then I'd need to be more than a little buzzed. I passed the bag to Angela after, then she passed it to Margaret. Once it circled back to me, I offered it back to Curly, who declined, then to the two JDs standing next to him, who also declined.

I finally spoke. "OK, what's the deal? You ain't gonna have any of your own whiskey?"

"Don't be such a buzzkill, Liz, we're just tryin' to relax." Angela pulled a cigarette out of my pack, and held out her hand for my lighter.

"Save that weed for later, Angel." One of the other guys piped up, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a joint, shooting a wicked grin at Curly. "Pass me your lighter, doll." He nodded his head toward me.

I kept my mouth shut as they passed it around, and felt a rush of relief when I watched Margaret nearly hack up a lung after taking her first hit. It's not that I had never been around the stuff before, I even tried it with Jeanie once or twice, but I had told myself that I'd be flying under the radar. Sharing a joint with multiple members of the Shepard gang, in an abandoned lot, wasn't really keeping a low profile.

But before I had time to think it through, I reached out to Margaret, who had taken another hit and looked like she might be sick from all the coughing she did. I didn't want to look like a chicken in front of Angela, and I also remembered how fun this kind of thing could be, so I didn't hesitate to take my first hit, or my second, or third. The roach burned out quickly between six people, so Curly's friends lit up another one. "This one's just for you girls, alright?" Curly said, then handed it to Angela. I felt too warm to second guess him.

Once the three of us finished the second one, I heard a high-pitched giggle from Margaret. "Oh…my god—you guys—", she giggled again, "—it feels like I have an exoskeleton!"

I couldn't for the life of me remember what an exoskeleton was, but I started laughing so hard that I nearly toppled over myself onto the ground.

Angela snorted. "What! Exo-what-did-you-just-say?" All three of us started cackling.

Margaret walked closer to me and clutched my shoulder, trying to calm her own laughs. "Let's go get milkshakes."

I managed to straighten myself up, wiping the tears that started to leak out of the corners of my eyes. "OK." I said, the rivalry between us forgotten.

Curly shook his head and smiled at us. "Y'all feelin' good? C'mon let's go."

Angela, Margaret and I slid into the backseat. I grabbed my pack of kools from Angela and lit one up, feeling as though my body was melting into the upholstery of the black chevy. I tilted my head as much as I could toward Angela, and took another drag. "Are we gonna go get milkshakes?"

She closed her eyes and smiled. " _Fuck_ , I hope so."

I vaguely wondered what was taking the guys so long to get into the car, but a second later I heard the doors shut. Curly turned the key in the ignition, and a Jimi Hendrix song started oozing out of the speakers. I felt the electric guitar vibrating through every inch of my body, punctuating in my fingertips and toes. I could barely keep my cigarette held between my index and middle finger, and luckily Margaret took it out of my grasp to take a few drags.

I couldn't tell how long we had been driving, my thoughts began to meld together, I wondered if I might have drifted off once or twice. When the door closest to me was opened, and one of Curly's friends helped me out, I was fully prepared to order a milkshake at whatever diner we had driven to. But when I really took a good look around, we were in a neighborhood, and not the kind of neighborhood a greaser would bum around in.

"Alright, Ang, remember what I told you. Keep 'em occupied, we'll try to be in 'n out in—"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, Curly, _whatever._ I just really want a fuckin' milkshake."

Curly smirked at her. "This goes well I'll buy you _two_ milkshakes afterward."

"What are y'all talkin' about?" I asked, which was no easy task considering my mouth felt like it was glued shut.

"I babysit here. We're meeting some people inside." Margaret said, before nonchalantly heading across the pristine lawn.

I tried to protest, knowing I was not in the state to be around strangers, but Angela linked her arm with mine, and began to drag me after Margaret.

The house itself was nicer than anything I could ever even dream of living in. A white paneled exterior, with a big porch and green shutters, the landscaping in the front was a little too manicured for my taste. The front door was black, with an intricate glass insert and a brass knocker that Margaret grasped firmly. She got away with four hard knocks before the door flung open. A middle-aged man looked at three of us, affronted, the face of a man who was definitely not expecting company.

"Margaret, what on earth…the kids aren't even here right now." He wore a checkered button down underneath a blue cardigan, with brown pants, just so I knew how much of an asshole he was.

"Is your wife home?" I assumed Margaret was trying to sound flirtatious, but to me she just sounded way too high to be caught in the middle of whatever scheme Curly was playing at. Hell, _I_ was way too high for it.

The man in the door sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Margaret, I think you have the wrong idea…you're with your friends…are you even sober?"

"Is she?"

He looked at Angela and I warily. "No…but, Margare—"

"Oh, Mr. Edwards, relax." Margaret said in a soothing voice, placing her palm on the middle of his chest so she could move further into the house. "I brought them for you, I thought you'd like them."

Mr. Edwards looked again toward Angela and I, still unsure, but curious enough to eye both of our racks for a decent amount of time. Margaret kissed him while he was distracted, deep enough that it made me feel funny to watch her do it. After that Mr. Edwards' will seemed to crumble, he let Margaret take him by the hand and lead him down the entry hall of the house. I took one last look outside, before Angela shut the door, but Curly and his boys were nowhere in sight.

We followed Margaret and Mr. Edwards to what I guessed must be the living room. Margaret guided him over to a leather armchair, and pushed him to sit down with the little strength that she had.

"Now you just wait here, I'm gonna make you somethin' to relax." She almost teetered over on her way over to his drinks tray, and looked up toward Angela and I once her back was fully turned to him. She bit her lip, and started giggling, making a good attempt to keep her shoulders from shaking. Normally the whole situation would've been just too weird for me to laugh at, but I was still stoned, so if Mr. Edwards pulled a revolver out of the front of his jeans and started shooting at me, I'd probably laugh at that too.

He shot us a funny look. "What're you girls giggling about?"

Margaret started walking back toward him with the drink in her hand. Another bout of laughter erupted from my chest when I realized that she had just poured Peach Schnapps into a glass with a couple of ice cubes. She handed him the drink, which Mr. Edwards took, then smelled and grimaced.

"You don't like the drink I made for you?"

He looked up at her, sighed, then took a long sip, trying his best not to pucker his mouth once he swallowed. He nodded unconvincingly. "It's great, thank you, Margaret."

Angela grabbed me by the elbow and led me over to the armchair. She deposited me behind it, took my hands and planted them on Mr. Edwards shoulders. He stiffened up initially, to which I instinctively began to rub out the tension. Margaret kneeled down between his legs, and placed her hands on his thighs, massaging up and down them. "Would you like it if we helped you relax?"

"I don—oh…" Margaret cut him off by unbuttoning his pants, with her teeth. I widened my eyes, but continued to massage his shoulders, pressing so hard out of shock that there was no way he could have enjoyed it.

Mr. Edwards downed the rest of his drink, then let himself sink into the chair, Margaret shimmied his pants down to his ankles. She left his boxers on and stood up to kiss him. It felt like they kissed for a minute or two straight, which would have made me squirm under normal circumstances.

Gradually, his shoulders began to go slack under my grip, and his head lolled to the back of the armchair, brushing against my stomach. I looked down at him bewildered, then back up to Margaret and Angela. "Did you slip him somethin'?"

Margaret kneeled back down between his legs, and began to drag his underwear down his legs as best she could. "Sure did, he'll be out for a couple hours."

I furrowed my brow once she had him completely naked from the waist down. "What are you doin'?"

"He'll be suspicious when he comes to if I don't." I turned away once she spat in her open palm and began to hold him.

I nodded toward Angela, feeling especially disturbed. "You wanna go raid the fridge?" She grinned and nodded at me.

As we walked through the nearest doorway to find our way to the kitchen, we heard, "Get me somethin' too!" from the living room.

The two of us got separated after the first wrong door we opened, which looked like some sort of guest bedroom. I wandered around the main floor, finding two bathrooms, a linen closet, and finally opening up the door to what must have been Mr. Edwards study. When I caught Curly digging through the drawers of the mahogany desk, I nearly jumped out of my own skin.

"Jesus! So this is why y'all brought us here?"

"Rich fucker," he said as he pulled out a case of cigars, "I knew he would have some of these." Curly kept rummaging around for other treasures, so I turned to continue my search for food.

Before I could make it out the door, Curly had turned me around and wrapped his hands around my waist. He smirked down at me. "Why don't we pick up where we left off last weekend?"

The warmth of his palms against my torso felt nice, and for the first time I wasn't thinking about Don. But I wanted ice cream, at that point it felt almost like an obsession, I would never think of anything else until I got it.

He silenced my thoughts by kissing me, open mouthed and sloppy. He turned us around so my back faced the desk, then pushed me up on top of it so that he could position himself between my legs. Things were moving fast, Curly had yanked my shirt over my head and was pawing at the hooks of my bra.

"Ain't you worried your socy girlfriend's gonna walk in?" He didn't stop upon hearing me, but pressed warm kisses to my neck.

He spoke lowly into my ear. "Don't care, just needed her to get into this house. 'Sides," he planted another deep kiss on my lips, "how can I bother with anyone else, when a hot little thing like you is around?"

It was a stupid line, but I was too far gone at that point with the weed and the booze, to give hitting the brakes a second thought.

He dropped my bra on the floor, and I didn't even care that the doors to the office weren't locked.

* * *

For all his talk, Curly sure didn't last long in the sack. We had finished, gotten dressed, and headed outside of the office in search of the kitchen again. Still, I was high enough to enjoy the short time it lasted. I had never had sex with a boy my own age, and the thing I liked most was the little noises he made when he came undone. It made him seem sweeter somehow, more vulnerable.

We found Angela sitting on the kitchen counter, eating straight out of a tub of Neapolitan Ice Cream. She looked up at us after shoving another spoonful into her mouth. "Where've you been, I got you a spoon."

I hopped onto the counter to join her, digging out a spoonful as quickly as I could. After taking my first bite, I was more satisfied than Curly Shepard could ever make me. I groaned and scooped out another. "This is the best thing I've ever eaten."

Curly looked at us and rolled his eyes, he had already lit one of the cigars he pilfered from Mr. Edwards office. "Margaret about done yet?" Angela and I shrugged. "'Cause we're about done here."

"Did y'all get the jewelry?" Angela questioned.

"Yup."

"Silver?"

"Mhmm."

"Y'all didn't take too much right?" I asked. "'Cause if they notice something's gone, then us girls are in for it."

"Don't you worry about a thing, baby, we got it covered." Somehow I doubted a guy with the IQ of Curly Shepard _had it covered,_ but I was still fuzzy and relaxed and I decided not to spoil it anymore.

"Oh, ice cream!" Margaret cried once she walked into the kitchen. I felt bad for her, knowing now that she was just an asset for Curly. But then again, what was I?

* * *

Curly wound up pulling the chevy into the garage, at Angela's request, so none of their neighbors would catch a couple of JDs piling silver and candlesticks into the trunk of a beat up car. Us girls sat in the back again, but we decided to drop Margaret off at her house right after, since she was starting to doze off on Angela's shoulder. Curly caught me doing the same in his rearview mirror, and suggested I go home too, but I asked if we could stop off somewhere so I could sober up a little bit more.

Of course that detour had to be at the Dingo. The rational part of my mind knew I had a good chance of running into Two-Bit, or even Steve, inside.

"Let's just sit on the hood and smoke for a while." I said to Angela. "I need to cool it, otherwise my brothers'll send me to a convent."

"Y'all ain't Catholic."

"They'd still do it."

Curly flipped up the collar of his jean jacket once he had stepped out of the car. "We're headin' inside." And then they walked away, no, _y'all want anything_ , no nothing. At least I knew the kind of person I had just slept with.

Angela and I sat in comfortable silence, riding the dregs of our high. I had gone through one and a half cigarettes when I finally heard her voice from beside me.

"Don't get too cut up if he's got a different chick on his arm tomorrow."

I didn't turn to look at her, just took another drag. "I wouldn't."

"Between you 'n me, I only think he gets as much as he does 'cause he's Tim's kid brother. It's like currency to all of 'em."

I sat there for a while and thought about why I hooked up with Curly. I sure as hell didn't see it as currency, in fact I was going to have to do everything in my power to make sure he didn't go blabbing loud enough that it got around to my big brothers. So why did I do it? Curly was cute but nothing special looks-wise. He wasn't smart and he definitely wasn't a gentleman. Maybe I was just desperate to feel something.

* * *

Darry's truck wasn't parked next to the curb in front of our house when Curly dropped me off. Meaning he probably picked up an extra shift at work. Before I walked up to my house I leaned in Curly's window, I think he expected me to give him a kiss, but instead I whispered in his ear, "Word gets around to my brothers and they'll break both your legs."

He laughed when he heard that, but nodded grudgingly. "See ya, 'Lil Lizzy." He sped away before I had a chance to smack him upside the head. I still hated the way he called me that.

Soda had come outside on the porch by the time I made it up the steps. He looked down our street in the direction they'd driven off in, thankfully Curly had a led foot.

"Did I just hear a car pull out?"

I nodded. "Yeah, some chevy parked in front of Mary Ella's house."

"What was it doin' there?"

I shot him an incredulous look. "How should I know?"

I moved past him into the doorway, and headed toward the kitchen, realizing I hadn't had a proper drink of water in several hours. He followed close behind me, and watched me from the doorway, looking tough as he leaned against the frame. "Why weren't you here when I got back?"

"I went for a walk, just needed to get out of the house." I said to him innocently. "I didn't go too far, I promise. Somethin' wrong?" I added, once I noticed the way he narrowed his eyes at me.

"Somethin'…ain't right…" he trailed off.

"Well, I don't know what you're talkin' about. I think I'm gonna go shower."

He blocked my path toward my bedroom. "Seriously, Lizzy, what's up?"

I groaned. "Nothing's up," and I know what I said next was a low blow, but I was starting to feel crowded and antsy the way he was grilling me, I would've done anything to get him off of my back, "maybe you're just takin' your late night talks with Ponyboy a little too seriously."

He didn't try to keep me from walking out then. I looked back before I shut the door to my bedroom. He had sat down at the kitchen table and put his head in his hand.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

 ** _Embitter_**

"If Steve and Evie were on the rocks, I'd know about it."

I sat on Angela's bed, painting my toenails the same bright red of Angela's shirt. Even though I was sober, I still had terrible hand-eye-coordination. I cursed underneath my breath when a glob of nail polish pooled in the crease of my nail bed.

Angela continued to apply her mascara in the mirror on her bureau. "That's what Evie told me, said she didn't want to put up with his pissy attitude anymore."

"I'd believe that, Steve sure is _pissy._ "

Angela set down the tube of Maybelline, and turned to look at me with a smile about as disarming as a gun barrel to the head. "So, all the boys comin' over to your house, all those hormones under one roof…"

I looked up at her and narrowed my eyes, but her expression didn't waver. Of her two brothers, I had hunch she took after Tim; she was whip smart, a quality Curly hadn't inherited, and had something of an alpha female mentality, no doubt her brother—the gang leader—could relate.

"Never happened."

"So you expect me to buy that none of those guys ever—"

"Nope."

She shot me an incredulous look. "You're _you_ , and Two-Bit and Steve never cornered you in the bathroom, never snuck you somethin' besides food under the dinner table?"

"Jesus, Angela, what kind of boys do Tim and Curly invite over here?" She raised her eyebrows at me. "No, nothin' like that. Honestly, I think Steve would rather swallow his own tongue, and both of 'em know Darry'd knock their teeth loose if they tried it."

She shrugged. "What about the ones six-feet-under?"

I stiffened. "Johnny was too shy for those kicks, and…between us…Dallas was always more keen on my mama than any girl his own age."

A melodramatic gasp escaped her, and she rushed over to the edge of the bed and plopped down next to me. She grabbed my arm and covered her mouth with her free hand. "Your mama?" I nodded. "What'd she think of that?"

"She always dug those wild and reckless types, you know. She thought my daddy was one, and once he stuck her in the house she went off lookin' for a new one…but you know, it's hard to cast that fishing line from the kitchen."

"She as pretty as you?"

I snorted and scratched the side of my head. "Prettier, and you and Curly can quit gassing me up, I ain't about to rat you out for robbin' that soc."

"We ain't gassing up shit, there's a reason I hang with you, Liz."

I smirked to myself, _of course,_ Angela Shepard couldn't be caught dead with someone who might open her up to ridicule, the same way Tim couldn't let anyone into his posse that wasn't at least 170lbs and looming. I realized then that the Shepards were more like the socs than they were different, image was a very powerful artifice for both of them.

"If Steve shows up to this thing, Angela, I am _dead,_ blue and bloated _dead._ You can believe you won't see my face ever again, 'cause he'll go runnin' back to my house to tell my big brothers."

She waved me off. "Sheesh, girl, don't you think I know that." Then she cackled. "You should'a seen it, Curly all but threatened to pitch me off the roof of the house if I went blabbin' to Ponyboy about the two of you. He's scared of 'em, you better believe it."

"Yeah, Darry don't exactly put people at ease."

"From what I've seen, it's the pretty one he needs to worry about. Boy can that Soda pop like a firecracker."

I screwed the cap back onto the nail polish bottle once I finished my left foot, setting my feet down on the carpet and stretching my toes as far as my joints would allow me. "So, you dig? Flyin' under the radar and all?"

Angela shot me a dazzling smile, before walking over to her closet. "I dig just fine, baby."

* * *

I couldn't decide whether to be offended or relieved when Curly ditched us the second we got down to the Ribbon. Don't get me wrong, I wasn't too cut up about losing him, but the nature of the drift made me self-conscious. It wasn't news to me that Curly was a hit-it-then-quit-it type of guy, but I couldn't help wondering if I had done something wrong. I found myself wishing he was strung out on me enough that I'd have the chance to kick _him_ to the curb. Maybe I would get that chance, he didn't seem able to keep his hands to himself when a pair of tits came into his vision. Maybe he cut out so quickly because he really was terrified that my brothers were lurking around somewhere.

Either way Evie and Angela aimed to play the field, which is how I wound up in a skirt short by Angela Shepard's standards.

Angela elbowed me as we headed toward the drag races. "You ever been on a pick-up operation?"

"Had Rapunzel ever walked on grass before?"

She looped her right arm through mine. "Aw, she's a _babe_. Don't worry, 'Lil Lizzy, I've been refining my technique for years."

"Oh yeah, _technique,_ all she ever does is bat those big baby blues." Evie laughed when Angela lightly smacked her shoulder, then looped her arm with Angela's.

 _We must be a sight,_ I thought, Evie and I escorting the Princess Shepard down to that makeshift race track. I guessed Angela liked us around, we were pretty enough to frame her, but not enough to outshine her. She wore her dark hair long and lightly curled down her back. The red of her shirt set off her olive skin like a picture frame. No wonder the hoods in Tim's outfit couldn't keep it together around her, the doll she was.

Evie and Angela told me the best thing to do was advertise down and back along the strip. I held a cigarette in my hand and let my arm drop out of Angela's grip. The Ribbon was always pretty crowded any day during the summer. On our little stroll, we received quite the number of vocal affirmations, which was largely due to Angela's status.

We walked down and back a couple of times, but no one to Angela's liking took the bait. After a while, we settled for leaning against the post in front of a bar. Evie had tried to charm her way past the bouncer, but the guy didn't seem in the mood to deal with anyone underage.

I liked these digs better anyway, it gave me a chance to watch the crowd instead of the other way around. People lined along the road, and jeered and screamed at the souped up cars that raced past. I never had dared to get into the passenger seat of one of them, and I knew I'd be too chicken even on my deathbed to do it. Soda was quite the drag racer, his reckless nature and all, it never was for Darry, who thought adrenaline ventures like that were nothing compared to football and skiing. Ponyboy knew, same as me, that to participate would mean death by older siblings, so we both watched on from the sidelines whenever we visited.

I took notice of the luminosity of her blonde hair, before I actually registered who she was. She had let it grow out since I saw her last, and she still dressed more like a lady than any other greasy girl I knew. Her blue dress was a modest length, and she hardly paid any attention to the guys nudging closer next to her. I had a right mind to march over, and throw her in front of the moving vehicles by the ponytail, but she spotted me before I got the chance to make a decision.

I saw the hesitance flash across her face, whether or not to come over to me, or instead just give me one, curt, nod. She was always braver than I gave her credit for. She started toward us, and I took a long drag from my cigarette to try and level out so that I wouldn't blow a gasket.

She shot me that smile I knew Soda fell in love with her for, the kind that could warm anybody up inside. Well I wasn't just _anybody._ "I never thought I'd see you here." She looked me up and down, taking in my change the same way Two-Bit had when I first got back.

"Well, I've been gone longer than you have. I'm a little surprised, thought you'd be back here after _nine_ months." Her smile tightened, and then broadened in her attempt to mask her hurt at my sharp words. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Angela giggle.

"How's it goin', Evie?" Sandy asked her next, but Evie didn't answer, she looked to me, and so did Angela. I felt a rush of power then, at the idea that these tough chicks were looking for my go ahead, to embrace Sandy or claw her eyes out, which gratified me and perplexed me at the same time.

I took another drag on my cigarette, and blew the smoke in Sandy's direction. She wasn't close enough for any of it to make contact, which only served to annoy me. In fact, the whole thing annoyed me, because I knew, looking at her then, that I wouldn't be able to stay mad at her forever. The moment we met eyes I felt a sort of gravitational lurch, remembering all the years we'd been best friends, all the sleepovers and shopping trips we'd taken together. I knew Sandy, the sweet and mild mannered girl who I napped next to in kindergarten. She meant well, I knew she did, I knew if I gave her the chance she'd only tell me how sorry she was I got sent away after the accident. But I was with Angela, and one of the few phone calls I ever got from Darry he made to tell me how she'd ripped Soda apart. My anger wouldn't allow any rational or kind thought into the forefront of my brain.

"Why are you even here? You miss bein' pregnant? You lookin' for another desperate JD to knock you up?" Evie and Angela giggled some more, a group of greasers standing a couple feet away let out a few low whistles.

Sandy wrung her hands in front of her, and shifted her feet, wide-eyed and at a loss for what to do. She never did have a backbone, so bullying like this must've been an all time fear for her. Somehow I managed to keep at it without letting any shake reach my voice.

"Go on and stop embarassin' yourself, you should've stayed in Florida, _mommy_. No one likes havin' to look at damaged goods."

She winced, swallowed, and worked up the courage to say. "I know things went real sour in the end, but…hell we've been tight since our dolly days, way befo—."

"Look, honey," Angela interrupted, her tone dripping cruelty. "My girl don't want you around anymore, so why don't you scram before things get nasty."

Sandy looked at me, and when I raised my eyebrows at her she turned to leave, but not before graciously adding, "I hope I'll see you around, Lizzy."

"I wouldn't count on it, skank." She walked away before I could finish my sentence, but I knew the damage had been done. I had succeeded, I had hurt her maybe a fraction as much as she had hurt my brother. It didn't feel like a victory.

Angela brushed my hair off of my shoulder and gave my cheek a playful pinch. I almost snorted, Angela Shepard was proud of me, what an achievement that was.

* * *

For all I knew, Angela had migrated with the Brumly boy she had hooked back to his car. Evie had found a similar conquest, but I could still see her in front of the race track, the guy's hand snaking around her waist. I had waved off my partner, and despite calling me a "tease", he was pretty cool about the whole thing. I didn't have it in me to entertain some guy that night, not after seeing Sandy like that.

I was walking along the store fronts, wondering whether there was some place I could get a pepsi, when a warm figure manifested behind me. A chill ran down my spine until the person said, "You lookin' for a tussle, grease?"

Steve erupted into laughter when I whirled around to smack Two-Bit on the arm as hard as I could muster. After a few seconds of my stinging onslaught, he grabbed both of my wrists and joined in on Steve's laughter.

I scoffed. "Golly, don't the two of you ever get sick of yourselves?"

Steve scoffed right back at me. "Not in the slightest." He gave me a once over and grinned at Two-Bit. "I should've believed you when you told me she was into these clown getups nowadays."

"Well, your pretty little _ex-_ girlfriend is wanderin' around here in one of these clown getups too. That why you're here, to grovel?"

He rolled his eyes, and Two-Bit piped up for him. "Actually, I recruited him, for the Curtis Guardian brigade, to make sure you don't tarnish the good name."

I cocked an eyebrow at him. "Oh, yeah? Why don't you quit wastin' your time, big guy, the beer's that way." I gestured toward the bar we'd tried to get into earlier, in an effort to make a break for it, hoping the two of them were distracted, but Two-Bit slung an arm around my shoulders before I could take a step in the opposite direction.

"We ain't gonna leave a babe in arms like you alone out here, and 'sides, you came here with Stevie's lady, go on and point her out to us."

"Why?"

Steve took a comb out of his back pocket and smoothed his hair back into a tuff swirl, looking as cocky as ever. "So I can find whatever fucker she's with and see how well someone can pick their teeth up off the ground with broken fingers."

Two-Bit blew out a puff of air. "Jesus, Steve how are you gonna lift all those hubcaps with broken fingers?" I laughed as Two-Bit tried to dodge a swat from Steve, jerking me around with him.

"I reckon she already left, I haven't seen her for about an hour now." I lied. Steve cursed under his breath, and lit the cigarette he had tucked behind his ear. The boys kept surprising me, I had never known how gullible they were before I left. "You'll never guess who I saw earlier."

Steve shrugged at me impatiently, and Two-Bit removed his arm from my shoulders to get a better look at my face.

I scratched the side of my head. "The one and only, heartbreaker of heartbreakers…"

"Don't fuckin' tell me…"

"A cute blonde, who's supposed to be knittin' baby socks right now way, _way_ , down south…"

Steve put his hands on his hips and looked up to the sky miserably. "What's that good for nothin'…who the hell does she think she is comin' back around here. What if Soda had seen her?"

"Beats me."

"Hope you scared her off." Two-Bit cocked his head at me.

"I don't expect to see her again all that soon. Still as fuckin' _polite_ as ever."

Steve sneered. "Good 'Ole Sandy, always thought she was such a class-act before she went two-timin' and got herself knocked up."

Two-Bit leaned over to jab Steve in the shoulder. "Don't make no difference now, we're here, let's get our kicks in now and save all the serious stuff for Darry—" he faked coughed, "—I mean later."

Steve eyed me. "What about the kid?"

"The kid will stay on my short leash the rest of the night, since she likes screwin' with my jollies so much, she'll get to haul me back to my car when I'm too plastered to hold myself up." I rolled my eyes, like _I_ was the one screwing up his plans.

" _Or_ you could just leave me alone and stop actin' like such a damn killjoy."

Two-Bit gasped and clutched his chest, holding onto Steve for support. "It's happenin' Steve, I've finally done it, I've let," he gulped, eyes wide, "Darry Curtis turn me into his Lieutenant Killjoy." Steve guffawed and I crossed my arms across my chest in a huff. "Yeah, not happenin' pouty, I'd rather play it safe now than fish you out of the back of some greaser's car later."

I gripped the strap of my purse. "I'll quit poutin' soon as you get me a pepsi, I wasn't plannin' on stayin' any longer anyways."

He straightened his back, held a hand across his torso, and bowed lowly toward the ground. "As you wish, madam, but we ain't leavin' anytime soon."

* * *

I never did get my pepsi. Somehow Two-Bit charmed the bouncer into letting me past, and Steve had his fake with him, so we claimed a table while Two-Bit went to get a couple of beers. The longer I was in the boys' presence, the more aware I became of the length of my skirt, of the tight fit of my shirt, I realized I must've looked like a baby prostitute to them, so I kept my arms crossed tightly over my chest.

Two-Bit found his way back to us with four beer bottles in his grip. He set two in front of Steve, and two in front of himself, then glanced my way and snickered. I rolled my eyes back at him, starting to feel fed up with his surrogate big brother act, starting to feel really miserable in general.

"And I got this to wash it down with." He pulled a bottle of Jack out of his pocket. Steve grinned at him and tipped his beer in Two-Bit's direction.

I watched them finish their first beer, then top that off with a couple of shots of whiskey. All the while they talked about stuff that could have put me to sleep if we were in the right setting. They moved from Kathy to Evie, to football, to baseball, to the new bartender at Buck's who, apparently, had a world class rear end, to the new checkout girl at the corner store on 5th, whose rear end, apparently, needed some work. By the time they circled back around to Evie, I had a right mind to pitch myself out of the window of the bar and hijack one of the cars they were racing with.

"So which JD was it that roped her in?" Steve finally turned to me. He must not have had much to eat that day, because his eyes already had a distinct glossiness.

"Ain't my bein' here ruining your plans for revenge?"

"You didn't answer my question."

"You think any girls are gonna come over here with me hangin' around? Looks like you guys dragged your kid sister here."

Two-Bit took a swig of whiskey. "I disagree, I think havin' you here might earn us some extra brownie points, you know, how _sweet_ we are to let our kid sister tag along."

I shot him a fake smile. "Give me your keys, or I'll tell whatever girl you pick up that you like to wear a diaper during sex."

"You go on ahead, honey, I got dirt on you that'll really stick."

So that's how I wound up walking four feet behind Steve and Two-Bit, and the two girls they met in the bar. They were our kind, with outfits similar to mine, only they could actually pull off those miniskirts. The blonde had her hair all batted up, with sharp black eyeliner and bold false eyelashes. I tugged at my hair, which hung limply over my shoulder, I could never do something that tuff with it. Two-Bit held her by the waist as they walked together. His hand snaked down to the small of her back, so I looked away before I gagged.

I took the chance to look around me, the scene hadn't changed at all. People still rooted for the cars they bet on at the track, couples mingled outside of the bars, and lurked in the shadows for more intimate moments. It was hot and loud, but more than anything, it was mundane. I recognized the faces of people I had watched graduate from high school with Darry, before Darry even. Most of them spent their days at some dead end job, and then came here after work to blow off steam. It made me feel sick to think that I would lead a future like this someday. I would spend the rest of my life living paycheck to paycheck, and drinking myself numb enough to pretend that watching a drag race every weekend was enough.

Hanging out with Angela and Evie, joking around with Two-Bit and Steve, it all felt so empty. I thought that after those horrible months I spent in Tennessee, that coming back would fill me up again. But it didn't, everything still felt far away and washed out.

I looked imploringly at Two-Bit's back. _Please, please, please,_ I thought, I couldn't stay there any longer. My pulse throbbed in my neck, I inhaled and exhaled shallowly through my nostrils. I needed to be back at my house, to talk to Darry, to feel our scratched up hardwood floors beneath my feet, to take in something that felt real.

Steve and his chick had walked off somewhere together. Two-Bit's blonde whispered something in his ear, and he glanced toward me out of the corner of his eye. She said something else to him, which made him look up to the sky and take a deep breath. He grasped the back of her neck and kissed her roughly, I grimaced and looked down at my feet. The next thing I knew the girl was gone and Two-Bit was standing in front of me with an irritated look.

He nodded his head toward the parked cars. "C'mon, you're driving, I'll crash on y'all's couch."

I glanced behind him. "What about that chick?"

He gave me a gentle nudge in the opposite direction. "It's gettin' late, let's go."

He wasn't too plastered to hold himself up as he predicted earlier. Two-Bit held his hand just below my shoulder-blades, guiding me to where he parked his car. He kept silent the whole way there, and lit up cigarette once he had spread out in the passenger's seat.

I didn't have my permit yet, and I hadn't been driving since before my parents died. Once I sat behind the wheel, I hesitated, looking from the ignition to the clutch, then let my foot hover over the gas.

I started the car and Two-Bit cast me a wary look. "Elizabeth, do not crash my car."

I backed out of the spot too suddenly, and then had to slam on the breaks to keep from rear-ending the mustang behind us. I smiled nervously at Two-Bit, who just shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"I'm rusty, OK. I haven't had any practice since I've been away."

"I thought you were living with some all American family, back east. What were their names, again? John and Danny?"

I chuckled. "Don and Jeanie."

"Don never take you driving?"

"No…Don never took me driving."

"They treat you alright over there?"

My hands tightened around the steering wheel. "They treat me fine."

"You know, Darry was real worried about that. Seein' how y'all had never met those cousins. Is it Jeanie who's on your mom's side?"

"Don's dad was mom's brother." I flipped on the right turn signal. "If Darry was so worried it's news to me. Hardly ever heard from any of 'em while I was away."

"Oh, you know Darry, workin' himself bloody even when he doesn't need to. He would've called if he had the time."

"And Soda and Pony?" I turned to look at him. He didn't answer. I looked back to the road in time to see the light turn to red. I eased into the breaks and cranked my window open once we were stopped. "That girl wanted to go home with you, didn't she?"

"Sure did."

"And you didn't because?"

"I had to get you home."

I sighed. "You never used to give a hoot what I did, Two-Bit."

"You never used to do anything for me to give a hoot about." He replied back evenly.

"I ain't your responsibility, so I wish you'd just give me an honest word on the subject that's not something about fishing me out of some backseat."

He kept his eyes on the road, and didn't answer me for a while, just continued taking long drags from his cigarette until it burned out, then he cranked his window down too and threw it out. It felt like forever until he spoke again. "You have any idea what it did to your big brothers when Pony skipped town after that soc died? The way you're keepin' on, with the Shepards, won't be long before you get yourself in some kind of trouble. So it ain't you I'm doin' this for, Lizzy…somethin' happened to you…they'd never recover.

"And I got my own kid sister. I figure if I can keep you out of trouble at this age, then she'll be a walk in the park when she's 15."

I pressed my lips together tightly. "It don't matter either way, 'cause either way I'm gone again come August. I'm headed back to Murfreesboro no matter what I do, so I might as well _do_ whatever the hell I want."

"You don't want to go back?" He moved toward me when I didn't answer. "You said they treated you fine."

"They do—"

"They _really_ treat you alright?"

"Yeah…I'm just tired."


	6. Chapter 6

Well, thank you to everyone who has taken the time to review, to even read this story, really I appreciate it so much. I was actually in Tulsa last week for a shower, so I got to drive through some neighborhoods I'm sure Ponyboy would have deemed soc-y, and others he would have felt right at home in if it was the 60s, which have since been gentrified.

Something that I think is necessary for me to say about chapters like these, is that there is some material included that could be triggering. I understand how painful it can be when a personal trauma is triggered when reading or watching certain things, so I always try to keep my writing about such things vague, but even so, read at your own discretion.

* * *

 **Chapter** **Six**

 _ **Mute**_

 _They didn't tell us until we had hauled ass down to the hospital. Mom was gone immediately upon impact, they kept dad in the ICU for about five hours, after which they pronounced him brain dead. We all sat in the waiting room, Ponyboy chewed his fingernails down to stubs, Soda bounced his knees and cracked his knuckles so constantly it drove me crazy. Darry was still, his elbows propped up on his thighs, his icy blue eyes stared unblinkingly down at the tiled floor. None of us had cried yet, the loss of mom was washed out by the hope that dad might make it._

The _doctor didn't need to say anything. We watched him push through the double doors, his hands stuffed professionally into his lab coat pockets. He met Soda's eyes first, and we all saw it, a face poisoned by death, by watching a family lose their parents. Soda broke first, and Ponyboy followed, like he always did. Darry grasped the two of them in a tight hug, and made a good attempt at keeping his voice level as he muttered to them that everything would be fine. The doctor and I watched them, the perfect example of what brothers should be, holding onto each other in the middle of a tempest._

 _I didn't join them. I had been an outsider to their trio my whole life, and that wouldn't change even amidst tragedy. I didn't cry either, I couldn't. None of it was real, was it? Mom and dad dead? It was some kind of joke, some kind of nightmare. I didn't believe it, I couldn't._

 _The rest of the week felt like we were floating through life. None of us went to school, we hardly left the house. The gang only stopped by if they had to, as did the neighbors, I guess everyone needed to process it in their own way._

 _I hated being in our house, it felt like mom and dad's ghosts had followed us back from the hospital. If I let my brain wander enough, let myself finally register that I would never sit with mom in our kitchen again, that dad would never come into my bedroom to kiss me goodnight, I'd spend the next hour hunched over the toilet, dry-heaving._

 _One day I had been leaning against the wall in the hallway to our bedrooms, just wishing I could melt into the wallpaper and stop existing. I heard a thump from my parents' bedroom, followed by a stream of curses. I looked into the doorway, Darry must've been rummaging around in their closet, a couple of mom's shoeboxes lay at his feet. He had stooped down to collect them, and didn't notice me until he straightened back up to his full height._

 _"What are you doing?" My voice sounded far away, I think it was the first time I'd spoken since we got home from the hospital._

 _He stuffed the boxes back onto the top shelf forcefully, then started sifting through the clothes hanging in front of him. "Well, we need suits for the funeral don't we? Mom never let us keep 'em in our room."_

 _"The funeral…"_

 _"Yes, Elizabeth, the funeral. We can't just leave mom and dad down at the morgue, we need to get them plots, and caskets, and find a funeral home we can even afford, and then we need to call up dad's sister and whoever else can be bothered to come, so we can ask 'em why the hell dad never wrote a will," he had flipped through all of the hangers, their suits weren't there, "and I guess we need new_ fuckin' _suits, because mom never bothered to tell me where the_ fuck _she put them."_

 _I watched him grasp the flimsy door of the closet tightly. "Darry."_

 _He turned to look at me then, and in my haze I felt a dull rush of shock spark my nerve endings. I had seen my brother angry, annoyed, exhausted, I had seen him sick to the gills the time he dislocated his shoulder during a football game. But I had never seen him broken, I had never seen him cry. He had put up a good front to Pony and Soda, and the gang, but as I looked at him I saw just how young he was. His eyes brimmed with tears, his shoulders trembled, and his breath came out raggedly through his nostrils; even after everything, he was still trying to keep it together._

 _He sat down on the edge of the bed once I took a step toward him, and held his forehead in his right hand in a further attempt to control himself. I wrapped my arms around his neck, and held his head to my chest. A shuttering sob escaped him, and he gripped the front of my skirt like a child, anchoring himself to his mother._

 _"I know where they are." I could feel a wet spot forming on my shirt from where he was crying, but I didn't pull away. "I'll get a hold of Neenah, dad's buddies down at the plant, mom's girlfriends from the office, anybody else..."_

 _He drew in a quivering breath. "I'm…I'm sorry, I'm sorry…"_

 _Light filtered through mom's white curtains, and the two of us focused on the sound of each other, the sound of life, heartbeats and expirations. It was one of the few instances of that first month that I felt like myself, alive._

 _We stayed like that, both of us afraid to let go and face the turmoil beyond the doorway. Sometimes I wished I could've stayed in that moment for a lifetime._

* * *

I should have felt comfortable. There were enough blankets beneath me to provide a decent buffer for the lopsided mattress. Curly had already stood up to pull his jeans back on, and went to sit on the windowsill, holding a lit cigarette out the window. My back ached, and my heart beat too rapidly for me to relax. I lifted my index and middle finger up, with tremendous effort, and pressed them to the side of my neck, just below my jaw. _Thump, thump, thump, thump,_ yeah, definitely too fast. Anxiety gripped my attention, and worries flitted across my conscious. I had never heard of weed inducing a heart attack, but my pulse was racing so fast that I was sure I might die.

"Did we already go?" I could hear the stickiness in my mouth, I needed a glass of water.

"Jesus," I turned my head to look at Curly. He furrowed his eyebrows at me. "Should'a known you had too much."

"That's not what I meant, I remember bein' at—fuck, whatever soc's, uh…house. Where are we now?"

"Buck's." He climbed back onto the bed and straddled my torso. "You can get as loaded as you want, Curtis, so long as you keep a low profile."

I examined the details of his face, mesmerized. The only light emitted in the room came from the lamp positioned on the dresser next to the bed. It shone across the left side of his face, emphasizing the fine grooves on his forehead, the deeper crease between his eyebrows, and the smile lines running from his nostrils to the corners of his mouth. He had a dusting of freckles across his cheekbones, and a cluster at the base of his hairline. His brown eyes were lighter than mine and muted, like tree bark after a heavy storm. In the haze of my drug-tainted mind, and the dimly lit space, I took in the light reflecting off of the tips of his eyelashes, and tried to cement the memory in my mind. My heartbeat had leveled out, and Curly looked down at me with an expression I could only interpret as fondness. I could love him if I let myself.

"Have you done it with Margaret?"

He nodded and smirked. "'Course, jealous?"

"Why are you keepin' her around?"

"She's our in."

"But we've hit four houses, ain't that enough?"

He got a defensive look in his eyes then, which he covered up so well with his exaggerated arrogance that I only narrowly caught it. "I've got big plans, 'Lil Lizzy, you'll see, plans bigger than anything Tulsa's seen yet." I wondered if he had disclosed these plans to Tim. He must have been tired of being bossed around by his older brother after so many years, hell, I'd only been enduring it for a few weeks and my tolerance was close to nonexistent.

I smiled up at him and nodded. "That'll be pretty tuff, Curly."

He smiled back at me, then leaned down to kiss me, sweeter than he ever had before, like I was a person and not just a warm body. But it was all surface-level, just like his attraction to me. He didn't kiss me out of affection, but because I had told him what he wanted to hear.

* * *

Angela offered me two shots of tequila, which I took without hesitation, and then Curly offered me a ride home, which I also took without hesitation. It was almost three in the morning by the time we left the roadhouse, and I was almost as blitzed as when we arrived. I nearly fell asleep in the passenger seat on the way back to my house. Curly had to elbow me awake once he stopped the car.

"Lizzy, c'mon, get up—there we go." I straightened up in my seat and rubbed the side of my face where it felt numb. I turned my puzzled expression toward him when I saw we weren't in front of my house. "You think I want Heavyweight Curtis seein' you in my car, wonderin' why you've been out so late?" I blinked at him, I hadn't thought of that. "Just sneak in the back door, or a window, or somethin'."

I took off my heels once I was out of the car, swaying heavily as Curly drove off into the night. I walked through Mary Ella's backyard, trying my best not to step on any stray pieces of glass.

I was lucky that Curly had the good sense not to bring the noise of his engine in such close vicinity of my sleeping brothers. I had told Darry that I would be sleeping over at Evie's that night, so if he heard me tiptoeing back into the house, he'd ask questions, and it'd take him a grand total of ten seconds to pinpoint the glossy redness of my eyes and the stagger of my form.

The lights in the house were off, so I bit my lip in concentration as I made my way over the chain link fence separating the two houses. The fence wasn't even five-feet high, but I collected one hell of a scrape on my inner thigh in my effort.

The back door was locked, so I began to run through every possible location Darry might have hidden the spare key, when I noticed the window to Ponyboy's room was ajar. He was barely visible from where I stood, I wouldn't have known he was up had I not smelled the burning tobacco and detected the pungent smoke curling into the sky.

He didn't look surprised at my approach, and had probably spotted me from the time I snuck across our neighbor's yard. He didn't make a sound, but I still held a finger to my lips, then stuck my hand out above me, silently asking him to clasp my grip and help me up and into our house.

I couldn't make out his face, but his pale hand reached out for mine, and I was hoisted up past him with enough force that I fell onto my elbow once I made it over the windowsill. I hit my funny bone, so I clutched my arm and contorted my expression into one amusing enough that Ponyboy had to bite a knuckle to keep from laughing out loud.

Once the unbearable tingling in my elbow subsided, and the only bodily distraction was the negligible sting from the torn skin of my thigh, I propped myself up across from my little brother. Pony's hair was disheveled and greaseless, he wore his favorite faded t-shirt and pajama pants. Soda was in his and Darry's room, thankfully.

"What are you doin' up?"

He took another drag from his cigarette. "Couldn't sleep."

"More nightmares?" His green eyes studied me, they were harder and colder than they used to be. He looked more and more like Darry every day, acted like him too. When he didn't say anything, I murmured, "I've heard you, the past couple times," barely above a whisper.

"You were up then too, huh?"

"You've been havin' nightmares again because of me, right?" He avoided my gaze. "I know, Pone," my throat thickened, "I know I'm messin' everything up."

"It's not tha—"

"I ain't myself."

He sighed and reached for his pack of kools. "You're drunk, I can smell you from here." He paused after lighting the cigarette held between his lips. He seemed hesitant, which was foolish, I would have answered any question he had in the state I was in. "I mean…it was only a year…how…how could things change so much?"

 _Should I tell him,_ I asked myself. I couldn't deny that it was something I had greatly desired. All of the things about mom and dad, about Don, that had been festering inside my psyche, that I had never voiced aloud. The reasons why everything had begun to feel distant and grey, why I couldn't have sex with Curly sober, without having the urge to be sick. I couldn't hold it in any longer, like the first time I got the stomach bug; I was so scared to throw up that I thought I could will the vomit back down my throat.

"Ponyboy," something about the tone of my voice made his eyes snap onto mine. Maybe he had been waiting for that moment, maybe he already knew and just wanted me to confess. My voice sounded nasally, and shook violently. I could feel tears well up in my eyes but it all felt strangely far away, like I wasn't the one who was crying. I didn't feel like crying. "Something…something's h-happened…"

 _It wasn't the first time, or even the tenth, but he had never brought his friends around before. When I had walked back to the house after school that Friday, dragging my feet the whole way, I felt a small amount of relief. I found the four of them sitting around the kitchen table with a couple of beers, and thought, maybe, Don would be too preoccupied hanging out with his buddies. I would finally get a break from him._

 _But I should have known. Jeanie had picked up the night shift to help out one of her girlfriends, and the four men had already polished off five beers each by the time she left. Later on that night, I would find myself wishing that I had accepted when they offered me a sip._

 _I hadn't gotten up from the carpeted floor in the den. Once they were all thoroughly spent, they settled in on the couch to watch_ The Tonight Show _. I took the chance to crawl out of their sight, behind one of the armchairs, in case one of them got bored again._

 _I lay on my side, the sound of their laughter drifted over me from behind my back. The ceiling fan was on high, goose bumps formed on the skin of my thighs and pelvis; my bottoms were still in a crumpled heap in front of the television._ I should go upstairs, I want to go upstairs, _I thought. But the fear of facing them overrode any rational thought my brain could muster._

 _I was distantly conscious of a stinging throb in between my legs, but I was somewhere far away, floating in a part of my mind unaware of the present. Another round of foul laughs erupted from my right, and I curled my legs tighter toward me and shivered._

 _A memory burst in my mind and broke my disassociation. "G-grab her!" I remembered one of them calling out through a fit of giggles, before they chased me out of my room. His words echoed around my skull, the image of the four of them tailing behind me down the stairs resurfaced in my vision. I looked frantically for a hiding place, or a room with a lock on the door. Had I tripped or was I pushed? I could never remember how I ended up on the floor in the entryway to the living room._

 _One of them hoisted me further inside by the belt loops of my jeans. Don went first, either because he was used to it or because the others needed to work up the courage. The whole thing could have lasted half an hour or five, I wasn't sure. It felt like a lifetime while I was in it, but as I lay there after, it seemed like some warped dream._

 _I didn't move from behind the armchair until the other three groaned, and stood up out of their seats, sighing out some drunken sort of goodbye before they headed out the side door. I didn't get up until Don walked over to my quaking form, nudged me with the toe of his boot and said, "Jeanie'll be back soon."_

 _It felt like I never really did get up, that I was still in that room, on that floor, sensing a part of myself sink into an abyss. I felt that way every time Jeanie left the house, and Don would come to find me. I felt that way the next two times he invited his friends over, even when I took the booze they'd offer me. I felt that way even when I sat at the dinner table of my real home, eating meatloaf with my brothers, watching them tease each other and chew with their mouths open, the way mom hated._

 _Sometimes I'd jokingly think to myself that I was still there, stuck in that moment, huddled naked and cold, and all that came after was some sort of hallucination to keep myself sane. The more months collected between that past and the here and now, the less it seemed crazy to me._

The sound of mom and dad's bedroom door opening made both of us jump. We listened to the sound of Darry clearing his throat, then the bathroom door shut. Ponyboy turned back to me first, but the moment had passed.

I looked at him apologetically. "I'm…too drunk and-and tired." He flicked the rest of his cigarette out the window. "Darry can't know I'm home…could I stay in here a while?"

He paused a moment, and I prepared myself for an awkward rejection, but he nodded his head shortly and I followed him over to the bed. We settled in, facing each other, we hadn't slept in the same bed since we were kids. Mom and dad always saw us as a pair, we were Irish Twins, which was funny to me, considering we looked the least alike. Ponyboy with his light hair, rosy cheeks and green eyes, me with my dark hair, dark skin, dark eyes. People on the street would never guess we were family.

"I have nightmares too, that's why I've heard you."

He pulled the covers higher up on his shoulder. "About…"

"About…mom and dad, and…a lot of stuff."

"You remember 'em?"

"It's what I remember that 'causes them." I said, trying my best to keep my eyes open.

"Lizzy, I'm…I'm sorry, I'm sorry." He murmured, and I tried my best to smile at him, but I was already half asleep by the time he got the words out.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

 ** _Grim_**

"If this continues to go smoothly," the grey-haired woman shouldered her purse, "then maybe you'll have more visits to look forward to in the future, Elizabeth."

 _So I'll be permitted to spend Thanksgiving_ and _Christmas with my family,_ I wanted to spit at her, but kept my lips pressed together in an obviously forced smile, as she walked out onto our porch, and down the front steps. She was older than the social worker I was assigned in Murfreesboro, and less understanding. I thought of Missy Vaughn, the overweight, blonde, mother of two, who would bring me homemade cookies every month when she came to check up on me.

When I turned around to face my brothers their expressions were ones of relief, except Ponyboy, whose features remained inquisitive.

"That went well—right? You think it went well?" Soda unbuttoned the checkered shirt he had borrowed from Darry's closet, then threw it on the armrest of the couch. Darry swatted the back of his head.

"I guess."

Darry shoved Soda toward the hallway to the bedrooms once he started unzipping his khakis. "All I heard was a lot of ifs and maybes."

I snorted and ran a hand through my hair, effectively ruining the half-up-half-down style I attempted that morning. "Well, it is the state." I sat down on the cushion closest to the door.

Darry studied me. "You should get a job."

"Why?" _It's not that I hadn't thought about it._

"You heard what she said, you show 'em that you're working hard and responsible while you're here, we'll get to see you more often."

"But not for good, right?"

He placed his hands on his hips at the angry curl of my voice. "Eventually maybe, the more they see you doin' well here…"

 _How many years would that be, two, three?_ For all his determination, I couldn't help but wonder if Darry was secretly relieved he didn't have another kid to raise. If he was, he never showed it, but deep down I suspected he was immeasurably grateful that it was his sister the state took away, and not his brothers.

"Yeah," I replied, my tone sounding forlorn even to my own ears. "I guess there's that to look forward to." I pictured the next couple of years I would have to spend away, with Don, in Don's house. I couldn't imagine I'd last more than one.

Soda came back into the room wearing a beat up pair of blue jeans, and a white t-shirt, which I suspected he put on grudgingly. "What's so bad about goin' back an' forth? Murfreesboro's a farm town, ain't it?"

"Pretty much." I really wished they would just drop it. My dreams were full of shadowy figures and hospitals the previous night. After the third one, I didn't bother trying to lull myself to sleep again, and ended up chain smoking on the back steps. My eyes felt puffy and tired, and I was very much aware of the painful zit forming on my chin.

"Hell, you can't complain, you don't even got socs to deal with." Soda plopped down on the couch beside me with a sigh, and slung his arm around my shoulders. "Maybe I'll visit, so you can introduce me to one of them well-to-do farm girls."

"See, we could work out a weekend off work an' come visit you."

"Yeah, great, Dar, this is all gonna work out." I stood up and headed away from them, toward my bedroom. My attempt to brighten my voice must've seemed out of character to them, because Pony and Darry turned to watch me walk away. "I'll visit for Christmas next year, and then maybe I'll even get to live here senior year, everything's great."

"Everything OK?" One of them called after me.

"Why wouldn't it be? I just didn't sleep too good last night, I'm gonna lie down." I closed the door and walked straight over to my dresser. My favorite skirt was in need of a wash. I had worn it for a week straight. I tugged it on without changing out of the Easter egg colored frock I had put on that morning. I was supposed to meet up with Angela later that night, if I stuffed a shirt into my purse Darry wouldn't be suspicious, and I could change later on.

The more desensitized I became to the Shepard's illegal activities, the more I sought them out. Part of me hoped we would get caught, and instead of being shipped back to Don I would be taken to a halfway house, or even jail. It was nothing really, was it? Drugging and stealing from those socs, it meant nothing to me. I had lost myself, I had lost sight of what was over the line, it was far away in the distance, behind me.

* * *

I staggered out of the black double doors, out of the kitschy office like all of the other kitschy offices we plundered on the west side, all with the same sharp-cornered mahogany desk. The sound of Curly and Angela's voices travelled down the hall to me, and Tommy—I could still hear the horrible noise leaking out of his throat. I had the urge to run, jump out of the window and into the bushes in the front yard, anything to get away from the scene that I had just left.

I moved my legs to walk further down the hall, but they felt cold and heavy. The icy sensation crawled up my abdomen and into my mouth, which watered suddenly, and I knew that I would be sick.

"Liz, _Liz,"_ Angela's hysterical voice was close to me suddenly, and I felt her long fingers dig into my triceps. I was then aware that she had stepped in front of me, but her features were indistinguishable, blurry. "Where are the towels? We need to get towels, he's bleeding all over the carpet," she practically screamed at me, and then she was sobbing, and gasping and whimpering, more upset and panicked than I had ever heard anyone be before. She held onto my shoulders, her pretty blue eyes quivered as they stared into mine.

"Is he up yet?" I asked, and thought, _of course he isn't up_. I looked back toward the doorway, I was closer than I thought.

I didn't want to go back inside, but anywhere away from Angela's heavy breathing seemed attractive. The light from the office seemed stark compared to the darkness of the hallway. I could see Tommy's tattered sneakers before I walked fully into the room.

He kicked his legs weakly, not as urgently as before, and pushed his hands against the oriental rug, like he was trying to push himself into a sitting position, or away from the blood spreading around him.

When he first hit his head, his eyes darted over to Angela's, a wordless way of asking for help. Now they were glazed, the only sign that he was still with us was the high-pitched wail emitting from his lips. I had heard a sound like that once before, when my elderly neighbor Mary Ella ran over the lower half of a stray cat, it lay dying in the street for half an hour until Dad shot it with his hunting rifle.

My stomach lurched, I looked over to where Curly stood a few feet from Tommy's body, his face a sickly white, his brown eyes wide.

"What…what do you need me to do…Tom, what do you…you're alright, c'mon…"

Margaret stood in the corner, shielding the owner of the house, who crouched beneath her with his head between his legs. "Just end it Curly, just make it _stop!_ " She shouted at him, then plugged her ears with her index fingers. Mr. Byarlay shook visibly below her.

I walked closer to Tommy, to get a better look at his face. For a moment his eyes focused on me, they were faint and bleary, but I understood. I couldn't let him lie there any longer, his mouth had begun to flap open and closed, like he was trying to form any coherent word. I peeled off my shirt, if I took the time to go and get a pillow from the den then I would lose my nerve.

Even though I was sure it was what Tommy had asked of me, he began to thrash and jerk his limbs as much as his central nervous system could still manage. I held the cotton tightly over his mouth and nose, but I underestimated how long suffocation took. I could hear Angela's crying come back into my immediate surrounding, and Curly mumbled something from my left. I couldn't bear to look into Tommy's eyes for more than 45 seconds, I had no idea how much time passed before his limbs eventually went limp, but it felt like a lifetime.

I looked up at Curly, who continued to mutter, "What are you doing…what are you doing…"

Margaret still stood in the corner, her ears covered, her eyes squeezed shut, but Mr. Byarlay stared at Tommy's body in horror. The top buttons of his shirt were still undone, the skin around the cut on his lip was angry and red.

"He needs to go to the hospital." Curly's voice echoed around the room, directed at no one.

I looked back down at the teenage boy I had kneeled next to. His eyes were vacant, his features still, as were his arms and legs. No breath rose in his chest, spit bubbled from his parted lips. I'd never forget the look on his face, not for the rest of my life. There was no serenity, no peace in the slack muscles of his cheeks. He wasn't anything anymore, just a lifeless casing of fat and muscles and dying organs, he wasn't a person, he was a thing, an object.

I had no idea my legs could move so fast, but the next thing I could process, I was hunched over the toilet in one of the hallway bathrooms, coughing up the toast and eggs I had eaten earlier. I continued to wretch once I had emptied all real food out of my stomach, until all that poured out was water, booze, and stomach acid.

I rested my head on the seat of the toilet once I was finished, and tried to ignore the persistent sound of Angela's crying. I closed my eyes and saw Tommy's face, I opened them and I saw his writhing legs, I saw his bloody scalp, and I heard his animalistic moaning.

My chin trembled, I should have just stayed home.

 _I wanted to tell Tommy what a waste it was to be in love with Angela Shepard, I wished that I had. It was only a matter of time before he did something stupid because of her._

 _Margaret was the distraction, Margaret was supposed to be the irresistible piece of ass, but who could look at her—or anyone—when Angela Shepard was in the same room. Margaret told us that we wouldn't need to drug Mr. Byarlay, that we could slip some silver and candlesticks out from under his nose if we just gave him a couple of hits from a joint._

 _I didn't know how we ended up in the office, we started off on the back patio. Curly shoved a roll of 20 dollar bills we found in a desk drawer into the waist of my skirt. Mr. Byarlay shoved his hands into the back pockets of Angela's short-shorts. She wriggled in his grasp, Tommy saw, with his vodka goggles on, and the confrontation exploded._

 _He got a good hit to Mr. Byarlay's mouth, but he was more off balance than the older man, who grasped Tommy's throat. It only took two well aimed hits to the side of the desk, before Tommy was lying on the ground wide-eyed._

 _Mr. Byarlay stood over him cursing, and took slow steps backward. "Shit, I didn't mean to, I didn't mean to."_

 _Angela knelt beside Tommy and brushed the sides of his face. "C'mon, baby, he didn't get you too bad, get up." He whimpered, blood spread underneath his neck and head. "Please get up, Tom, please."_

 _Angela became more frantic, Mr. Byarlay continued his mutterings once he backed into the corner, Margaret screamed at Curly, and Curly stood still. It was too much, the noise, the look on Tommy's face, Angela's gut-wrenching pleads, it was too much._

I found Angela in the den, sitting in the checkered armchair next to the phone. Her eyes were puffy and red, and she stared expressionless at the powder-blue carpet. There was blood on her hands and knees.

"Call Tim." I moved further into the room when she didn't respond. "Angela, get on that fuckin' phone and call Tim."

She shook her head, her voice sounded thick and tired when she spoke. "Can't call Tim."

I walked over and crouched in front of her, but she still wouldn't meet my gaze. "We got to call somebody." She shook her head again. "Who else is goin' to be able to handle this-this…"

"Tim can't know."

I cursed and stood up, there was no sense in trying to reason with her after she had watched a boy die, I wasn't quite sure how my mind was still running rationally, maybe it wasn't. My vision was hazy and my pulse pounded, I was functioning on nothing but adrenaline.

Curly hadn't moved. When I walked back into the office, after taking three deep breaths outside of the doorway, he was still staring at Tommy's body. I couldn't bring myself to look, I kept my eyes on Curly's face, which hadn't regained its usual color. I walked toward him until my body pressed against his, and I grasped his jaw, turning it toward me.

"You need to snap out of it." I shook his face, and he finally looked at me.

"Wh-when…when is…he's…" His hands found their way to the bare skin of my stomach, searching for something real to help him make sense of it all.

His eyes began to drift away from mine again, so I smacked him lightly on the cheek, once, twice, then grasped him by the shoulders and shook him vigorously. "He's _dead,_ he's dead alright? He ain't wakin' up, so quit standin' around like he's going to." My voice sounded unhinged, maybe I was as unequipped to deal with the situation as Angela.

His eyes seemed to focus, and his face collapsed. He brought his hands up and ran them down his cheeks, and cleared his throat to regain some composure. "Fuck, _fuck,_ Liz."

"Call Tim."

" _Fuck."_ He sobbed, hunching down so severely that I didn't think he would be able to hold himself up much longer.

"Call Tim, Curly!" I shouted.

"H-he can't know, I…I'll take care of it, just give me a _fuckin'_ second, Tom…Tom…" he wobbled over to the chair behind the desk, and put his forehead down onto the wooden surface, his shoulders shuddered.

I turned to leave. "Five minutes, then we got to sort this shit out."

I held my head high as I walked back out into the hall, keeping my gaze up and away from the body. Once I was out of Curly's sight I leant against the wall, grasping my abdomen, which felt twisted and clenched. Was this how Johnny and Ponyboy felt, I wondered.

* * *

I sat in the den with a still shell-shocked Angela, and smoked the rest of my pack of kools. It was full when I left my house at the start of the night. I bit my nails down to raw stubs once I finished the last cigarette, then jumped, nearly taking off my whole thumb nail, when four loud knocks reverberated from the front door.

I didn't hear Curly's footsteps exiting the office, so I made my way out of the den and into the foyer, and opened the door.

Had I experienced any other kind of night, I would have laughed at the man standing in front of me. He couldn't have been much older than Darry, with a wide hooked nose and dark, coppery skin. The abundance of smoke emitting from the cigar held between his full lips, camouflaged much of his face. I made out black eyes, that narrowed at the corners so it looked like he was laughing even though he wasn't. He could've been handsome if his nose wasn't so big, and his eyes weren't so close together.

He wore a tuff blazer, and a white button down that exposed his hairless chest. He held himself the same way Curly and Steve held themselves, proudly, like it was privilege for me to be able to look at him, only he had the expensive clothes to skyrocket that arrogance to another level.

"Pretty tan lines," he studied my scantily clad chest. "Don't ever let yourself get pasty like those white girls."

"I'm white."

He smiled, his crooked teeth a dazzling white. "I know how to spot a native, sweetheart."

"My dad was."

He shrugged. "Like I said…now, you didn't strip just for 'lil ole me, did you?"

"Did Curly…"

He stepped into the doorway next to me, pressing himself flush against my body so that I blinked in surprise. His breath was stale. He flicked away the stub of his cigar. "Said there was trouble, here I am on sweeper duty."

He pinched my waist before heading further into the house. I followed after him, in case he needed directions toward the office, but he managed to get their fine on his own. He paused in the doorway once he caught sight of Tom's body, then looked mockingly toward Curly, who had lifted his head to stare vacantly at him.

"This why you called, Curly, you afraid of getting some blood on your crisp white t-shirt?"

Curly stood up and walked shakily toward us. "I couldn't call Tim, you know, and-and…I've never had to deal with…"

"A corpse?" The man snickered. "Least you had the good sense not to get your big brother involved, that would have made our relationship real sour, wouldn't it?"

"Uh, ye—"

He walked over and nudged Tommy's foot, I flinched. "Who did this sucker in?"

"Guy who owns the house, listen, Steele, I didn't want to bother you on a weekend, I'm—"

Steele shook off his jacket and handed it to me, then began to roll up the sleeves of his shirt. "Go on and clear out, I'm going to call a team over here, and the less high school kids around, the better."

"Wha—"

Steele seemed to have a habit of interrupting people. "Go and wait for my call, should be sometime tomorrow." He looked at me. "Doll, put that on, Curly go and take her home, keep girls out of this from now on."

The blazer swallowed me, and I was grateful for the abundance of fabric to wrap around my exposed body. With the domineering energy of Steele in my presence, the dregs of adrenaline left my system, and I finally felt the ache in my temples. The questions I should've had about Steele stayed on the backburner in my mind; _what was his connection with Curly, what was the relationship he referred to, why would he bother cleaning up a murder scene for kids he'd never met?_ They were wonderings for another day.

* * *

Curly parked the car in the lot outside of the Ribbon. I didn't look at him questioningly, but he said, "I need to blow off some steam." Angela and I didn't respond, Margaret, who had decided to walk home, probably would have stayed silent too.

The three of us parted ways once we stepped into the bright lights and exuberant noises around the bars and race track. The people who did look our way were taken aback, we must have looked like hell, I sure felt like it.

Curly headed straight to the track, Angela wandered off into the crowd aimlessly. I shifted from my left foot to my right, unsure of what direction to take. Part of me wanted to step in front of one of the racing cars, and let it all be over, part of me wanted to knock a few back in the nearest bar.

My eyes shifted through the bodies in front of me, laughing and swaying and alive. _Would Tommy have been among them if Curly and Angela hadn't asked him to tag along that night?_ My gut twisted again, Tommy, the skinniest and most timorous Shepard hood I'd ever met. He hadn't even dropped out of high school yet. I knew then that his family would never know what happened, I had it easier than Johnny and Pony did. Tommy was no soc, the cops would easily believe that he simply skipped town. Tears pricked my eyes. Nobody would care to search for the shallow grave Tommy would be buried in, if Steele didn't just toss him in the lake.

"Lizzy?" A sweet and light voice broke through my thoughts. "You've got blood on you." Sandy stood in front of me, her sun bleached eyebrows furrowed in concern.

"Are you OK?" She asked.

I couldn't hold it in any longer, the moment her words registered in my brain and I really looked into her kind blue eyes. My face twisted in anguish. She had pulled me into a tight hug before the first sob escaped me.

"I'm not."

She held me tighter.


	8. Chapter 8

Apologies for such a long wait, abroad applications plus a lab course really kicked my ass these past two months. But, I've gotten over a couple mountains workload wise, and work wise, so I'm going to try and post more frequently. I also feel pretty lousy about it because this chapter is so short, but I promise, there will be more to follow, I have Lizzy's whole story mapped out in my head and there's no way I can stop now.

Hope you enjoy.

* * *

Chapter Eight

 _Breathe_

"You always swore you never would, that you'd wait…" She sounded amused, contempt bubbling from beneath the edges of the feminine lilt of her voice.

I couldn't bring my brows together to express my confusion, I could barely keep my eyes open. I wondered how long she had been talking to me, I was vaguely aware that I had been in and out of consciousness since the clock on the wall across the room read 5:30.

I inhaled deeply through my nose, stretched, and huddled down further into the bed we shared. "Hm." The noise left my mouth, sounding scratchy and muffled.

"You always told me you'd wait till marriage, you loved telling me that when me and Soda were dating."

I groaned and rolled over onto my back, eyes still partially closed, I rubbed the dregs of sleep out of my eyes. "Yeah, well…"

"You cashed in your V-card to Curly Shepard." She let out a breathy-laugh.

"Not Curly."

"Someone from Murfreesboro? Farm boy?"

A wine headache to rival all wine headaches throbbed throughout the front and sides of my forehead. I brought my arms from beneath the quilt crumpled on top of us, and clasped my hands together over my ribcage. I exhaled once more, and before I could talk myself out of it, said in a surprisingly nonchalant tone, "No, my new guardian, Don."

The white noise of silence became glaringly loud in my ears after that. I picked at a loose thread sticking out of one of the pink patches of quilted fabric covering me, when she still said nothing I turned my head to look up at her. Her blonde hair was silky and fine, as usual, untouched even after a night of restless sleep. She tugged her bottom lip in between her teeth, kindness glowing in her blue eyes.

"But, I thought he was married…how old is he?"

"He's…I don't know, late 30s—maybe."

"So…you two…was—"

I chuckled, and though it was empty it filled me with a bleak kind of strength. I wouldn't cry about Don, at least not that morning, not in front of her. "He'd make me, sometimes he'd bring his friends around, three of 'em, and they'd hold me down…take turns."

" _Lizzy._ "

My mouth stretched into a wry grin. "Pretty messed up, huh?"

"Have you told anyone? Does Darry know?"

"You're the only one."

" _Lizzy,_ you have to, you can't live there if..."

"No one would believe me."

"You should tell Darry."

"I couldn't…it…it's embarrassing. I could never say it out loud, 'specially to Darry."

" _Lizzy._ "

I scoffed. "I don't know, I don't know, _OK_? I don't even care anymore. I just want to pretend like it never happened—it's not a big deal."

" _Li—_ "

"I don't want to talk about it." I cut her off, sounding exasperated. I wasn't angry with her, or anyone in particular. I had pictured what it would feel like to tell someone for months at that point, I imagined the relief I would feel, I imagined that it would make everything better, lighter. As I laid there, the leaves on the trees outside of Sandy's window, just barely visible, the birds beginning to wake up, I realized how naïve I was. Nothing could ever make it better.

"What did you do with the baby?" I didn't look at her face when I asked, and briefly wondered if I had caught her off guard, but something told me that she had been expecting that question the moment I agreed to stay the night at her house, when she saw me at the Ribbon.

"I lost it…I was relieved at first. My grandparents made me go to the doctor after that, they told me I have an inhospitable uterus…all I could think about when I first got the thing was that I wanted it gone…now I know it was probably the only chance I had to…and," I turned to face her, she wasn't looking at me, but staring at the door of her bedroom, her voice sounded thick, "It would've been a boy…I don't know how I know, I just do. Sometimes I wonder if…if it's some kind of punishment for…"

"For Soda?"

She turned to look at me like I had grown an extra head. "For you…don't you remember?"

 _I always thought people got dressed up for the school dances, put on something special, not just week outfits. I had been begging my mother for since the month before to buy me that dress, but standing in front of Mack Daniels, I felt ridiculous. His eyes flitted from mine, to Sandy's back, then to mine again, the corners of his mouth tugging into a smug, close-lipped, smile, silently reminding me I was uglier than her._

 _My cheeks burned and I turned my gaze to Sandy, her disheveled hair, blue eyes cast down at the gym floor. She reached her left arm quickly across her torso, to bring the strap of her tank top back onto her shoulder._

 _My ears popped._

"You promised me."

"I know." She looked away, ashamed.

"You said you'd be nice to him."

"I know."

I shifted my weight onto my right side, swung my legs out from under the covers, and over the side of the bed so the soles of my feet touched the cool hardwood floor. I would just wear the shirt I borrowed from Sandy back home, hopefully Soda wouldn't recognize it, if he was even up yet. The walk would be long, but it would give me time to think up a convincing lie, to prepare my excuses in case Ponyboy or Two-Bit saw Angela or Curly last night, in case they knew. Images flashed through my mind, of Tommy, of his blood, the sound of it, the smell of it, my stomach lurched. I hesitated to get up for fear of being sick.

I felt her hand ghost against the back of my forearm. "Don't go yet, it's too early…I don't want to be alone."

I sank back into the mattress, feeling tired and dehydrated. Sandy had rested her head back down onto her pillow, once I rolled onto my left side, she brushed her fingers against the knuckles of my right hand, silently asking. I opened my closed fist, and she wove her hand into mine, her eyes fluttering closed.

We had done it a thousand times, slept in the same bed and held hands, more times than my mother had hugged me. It felt like home, it felt like the realest thing I'd done in a long time.

"Lizzy?"

"Mhmm?" I felt myself starting to drift off too.

"I always loved you more."

"I love you too."


	9. Chapter 9

Apologies, for the wait, thankfully I have a bit of time before my adventures abroad begin. I had it in my mind where I wanted this chapter to go for so long, but couldn't find the right mood to execute it.

In regards to the conversation on the review page: There are plenty of survivors who make the brave decision to come forward, and there are plenty of others who do not. It is no one's business but theirs, the circumstances that lead them to keep their trauma a secret, and they honestly don't need a reason, whether it be stigma, further threat of violence, embarrassment, etc. I don't mean to patronize the Guest who initiated this conversation, in fact I think it is an important one to have, especially in this social and political climate. Lizzy is a wounded young girl, who has lost her trust in the state, following the occurrences of the death of her parents, and I am grateful to anyone who has related to her experiences, for sticking with this story. I know it can be triggering and challenging, thank you.

* * *

Chapter Nine

 _Endure_

When I heard gravel pop beneath the tires of the car tailing me, I immediately assumed it was a mustang, or corvette, or something clean and shiny with a boy just as clean and shiny behind the wheel. Angela had told me socs didn't like cruising around our neighborhood anymore, not after Johnny killed that rich kid; but the engine was too quiet, no greaser would be caught dead with a car that purred so sweetly.

My hand slid down to the middle of my purse strap, I drew my shoulder blades back, and swung my left arm in a longer arc in time with my footsteps, refusing to let myself appear scared. The car inched closer, slowly, but I wouldn't look behind me, kept my chin tilted up and ahead.

I heard the familiar squeak of a freshly washed window cranking down, and braced myself for the usual insults, " _greaser, whore, bitch, white trash"._ There was a dark haired boy sitting in the passenger seat, closest to me, that much I could make out from the corner of my eye. He wasn't the one that spoke first, but the voice that did reach my ears made my head snap to attention.

"Need a ride?" Steele looked me up and down disinterestedly, his eyes lingered on the blood-stained blouse draped over my purse. His tanned skin glowed warmly in the late morning light, and his dark eyes made something curl and tickle in my stomach when they met mine. "Get in the car."

I blinked, and shifted my gaze to Curly. I had never seen him so deflated, his face was still as pale as it was the night before, the dark circles beneath his eyes stood out starkly against his skin and made him look frail. He met my gaze for a split second, but his eyes flickered away quickly, I took a step back.

"I didn't say anything." I blurted out, before I looked back to Steele. My voice sounded desperate, defensive, I expected him to laugh at me, but he rolled his eyes, and rested an arm on the steering wheel.

" _Get in the car."_

Blood throbbed in my throat, and my conscious waded blearily inside my own brain, looking for some pocket of common sense. I let out a silent puff of air and looked back to Curly.

"Lizzy, _please."_ He stared at the dashboard, and I heard a derisive snort from Steele.

To this day I don't know why I climbed into the backseat. Sometimes I rationalize that it was because Curly, looking so weak and pathetic, asked me like that, in that tone of voice I had never heard emit from his mouth, that would have made his older brother spit in embarrassment. Sometimes I tell myself it was because I was being noble, protective, that I actually cared about the middle Shepard more than I'd let myself admit. I lie to myself too much to give that a second thought.

That was the moment, a cataclysm for every rock fall I experienced for the rest of the summer, why I am where I am now. I didn't know it as I pressed my legs together, sweat from my thighs causing my legs to stick uncomfortably to the leather upholstery in Steele's car, as his eyes lingered on me in the rear view mirror. I didn't know, but I should have.

* * *

"What'd you get up to last night?"

"I-I…nothing—"

"Nothing?"

"Drank, partied, nothin' really."

"Why were you out all night?"

"I was drinkin'."

"Where's Tommy?"

"I don—"

"Where's Tommy? He was with you when you left your house at ten."

"I don't know."

"How can you not know, he was with you all night, wasn't he?"

"No."

"No, what?"

"He wasn't…he wasn't with me…"

"Then where was he?"

"I don't know."

"You don't know? Your friend disappears, he doesn't tell you where he's going?"

"I don't know."

"Curly."

"I don't…"

 _"Curly."_

"I don't know!"

"What did I tell you? _Say it._ "

"He said he had been fightin' with his mom, he got too drunk, hitched a ride with some trucker at Buck's, said he was headin' to Vegas for a while."

"Folks going to corroborate that he was at Buck's?"

"Yeah."

"Even though he wasn't?"

"Yeah, _yes,_ alright? Everyone there drinks all day, they'll say they saw us, so the cops won't know they was shootin' up." Curly lifted his head, from where it was rested on the car window, to glare at Steele.

Steele's head remained turned toward the road, he took a quick right into a gravel alleyway on the industrial side of town. "What'd you get up to last night?"

Curly groaned. "Christ, give it a rest."

"What'd you get up to last night?"

"How long are you gonna keep this up?"

Steele put the car in park, and killed the ignition in front of the garage door of a run-down storage unit. "Until I know there won't be any cops tailing my car, asking around town about some Hatchet-Packer, just because you can't remember some half-assed story to cover up your buddy's little tumble." Steele partially opened his door, then turned to look back at me, hand still gripping the handle. "Follow me."

I leaned in closer to the front seat once he clambered out and shut his door, before Curly had opened his, and hissed. "What the fuck is going on?" He didn't answer me.

Steele opened the right-side door for me, but didn't offer a hand. Once I had both feet on the patchy gravel of the parking space, he snatched my blouse from where it was draped over my purse. I flinched away from him, and furrowed my brow when he crumpled it in one fist. He jerked his head toward the garage door, and I glanced once more at Curly, before following the older man inside.

There was nothing special about the interior of the space, it was just as rusty as the outside, with a four-legged-iron table in the back corner, lawn chairs seated around its circumference. I shifted my gaze to the other corner as we moved further inside, studying a lopsided wooden table, with an assortment of screw heads, a rubber mallet, and a saw resting on top. When I saw the tin bucket of questionable fluids on the ground next to it, I wrinkled my nose. It wasn't until I heard a squeaky-rustle beneath my feet, that I looked down to find myself standing on a large sheet of plastic.

I whirled around to where Curly was shutting the garage door behind us. He turned and noticed my alarmed expression, then his eyes drifted down to the floor beneath me. His eyes widened to circles. "Woah, man, what the fuck?"

I started to take a few steps backward, thinking that the closer I was to the door, the safer I would be. I heard a jarring click as Steele drew a pistol from the waist band of his suit. I was such an idiot—I should have known he'd be strapped. He pointed it toward my abdomen, and raised his free hand, curling two fingers back toward him. The message was clear, _don't even think about running._

"Curly…what did you get up to last night?"

"You said we were just going to tell her what to say to the cops." Curly didn't move from behind me.

"What did you get up to last night?"

"C'mon, drop the gun, man." There was no authority in his voice, his tone was as shaky and frightened as a child's.

"I'm gonna ask you one more time," Steele pressed the hammer of the pistol down, the heavy click vibrating up my spine and pinballing between my eardrums, "what did you get up to last night?"

Curly stammered, "Uh-uh-I—I got drunk, I was partyin'."

"Where?"

"M-my house, and Buck's."

"Where's Tommy?"

"He fought with his mom, got too drunk, hitched a ride to Vegas."

Steele looked back to me then, his eyes imploring me, like there was something I was supposed to know. "Where's Miss Curtis?"

"What?"

"The Curtis girl, where is she?"

By then all color had drained from my face, I could never understand why, but my hands flew up to grasp the base of my throat, soothing the skin around my collarbones. I remembered a choking sound leaving my throat, my chin trembling.

"Sh-she…she's—"

Steele scoffed. "Oh c'mon, Curly…we found her wandering around in broad daylight, with the shirt she used to suffocate him— _for fuck's sake,_ his blood's still on it. Loose ends only need tying up when they're unraveling."

"Bu-but-but—"

"B-b-b-b-but," He mocked Curly, when he looked back to me his eyes twinkled. "If she's gone, I don't have to worry about her cracking."

"She ain't gonna tell nobody, Steele! I swear, we won't tell the cops about you, alright? It was all on us, you were never there, it was all us!" Curly sounded borderline hysterical, his voice thick with tears.

"I was never there?"

"You were never there."

Clint nodded, an easy smile spreading across his face, he tucked his pistol back into the waistband of his pants, looking at me with an almost apologetic expression. My hands hadn't left my neck. "C'mon, sweetheart, quit looking like you're about to dig your own grave, I just had to make sure."

A strangled, " _what?",_ left my mouth.

Steele grinned bashfully at me. "Nothing personal."

I looked back at Curly who was crouched, shaking, his head hung between his legs. I walked toward him without thinking, he jumped when I pressed my hand between his shoulder blades. "What the hell is wrong with you?" I said loud enough so that Steele would know it was directed at him, but I didn't turn to look at him, I would've burst into tears.

"Curly, mosey on over to your big brother, you know the way. I'll drive you home, sweetheart."

The garage door opened, the brightness and heat from outside bathing Curly and I in warmth. I looked up to Steele's silhouette, framed in the doorway. His features were obscured in darkness, stark against the white of the afternoon sky behind him. He held out a hand to me, and I imagined he was smiling, the one that made something sickly sweet bubble in my chest.

* * *

After about a month of living with Don, I stopped being afraid of death. When I was a kid, I would lay awake at night, trying to picture what it would be like to stop existing. I could only imagine darkness, loneliness. My mother still took me to church every Sunday, even until her death, but I never believed that there was a heavenly realm in the sky, where everyone lived happily ever after; it became even harder to accept after my parent's accident, and after enduring my hellscape in Murfreesboro.

Most of the times Don or his friends would force themselves on me, my mind would go blank. After the first few, I became skilled in that particular sort of disassociation, and everything outside of my own head would go bleary and colorless, like the sound of someone's voice when you drift off into a daydream. There were times, which occurred later on in my stay, that I would think about death, and think about how inviting the concept seemed. I could taste it, swish the idea around in my mouth; it was syrupy and relaxing, the thought of falling into nothingness.

So I couldn't shake the feeling I had when Steele pointed that gun at me, the chill that festered just above my sternum.

Steele cleared his throat from where he sat across the table, I tore my gaze away from the traffic light across from the drugstore he insisted we stop at. "You're not touching your food." He said in a commanding sort of way, like I was supposed to reflexively obey.

I didn't answer, so he sighed, and leant back in his seat after wiping off his greasy fingertips with a napkin. "I was never going to hurt you."

"Kill me," he raised an eyebrow, "you were going to kill me."

He smiled. "I was never going to kill you, I just needed a way to get inside Curly's head."

"Why me?"

"Your fucking him, aren't you?"

I felt my ears start to turn red. "The fuck does that matter?"

"Yeah, sweetheart, why don't you go try to find me any guy who wants to see the girl he's fucking hug a shot from a pistol."

"Curly doesn't give two shits about me, you should've picked Angela."

"It worked didn't it?" Steele considered the untouched bag of fries in front of me, before reaching out and sliding them to his side of the table. "And the Shepard girl? That little thing is downright feral, probably would've stabbed me in the neck before I even got her to my storage compartment."

"So—"

"So, I needed someone tame, and...you know, she's just his sister, doesn't make much of a difference that she's prettier than you." He shot me a patronizing smirk when I glared at him. "I needed to give you a run down anyhow, I mean, _jeez,_ you were walking around with the shirt—"

"I was walking a mile back to my house, in my neighborhood, _not yours."_ I snapped.

He straightened up, pride showing in the stiff set of his jaw. "The neighborhood with the highest police presence, as I recall Curly telling me. Doesn't matter if it's a mile or a skip, the five-o sees you wi—"

"I would've said my boyfriend got into a fight, I would've said my stepdad liked to whoop my mama, I would've said whatever the fuck I liked, and—"

" _And,"_ he raised his voice, his neck red and blotchy, I crossed my arms in front of my stomach, feeling uneasy when I noticed he was gripping the table edge so tightly his fingers were turning white. "They would've pressed you, hell, maybe taken you down to the station, because they're bored, redskins are easy targets to pick on."

"I ain't a redskin."

"Sweetheart, you're darker than me." It was an exaggeration, but I had always known I took after my father's native roots, always to my mother's dismay. "You would've been in deep shit, and therefore so would I, and I've got priors that even Curly's big brother would raise his eyebrows at."

I raked a hand through my hair and drew a raspy breath through my teeth, irritated but too drained to argue any further. I could tell Steele didn't like to lose. "Fuck, I need a cigarette."

"How about a stick of gum instead?"

"Fuck you." I heard him chuckle, and forced myself to swallow the next temper outburst I felt bubbling up. "Alright, I'm not gonna say nothin' to the cops, can you take me home now?"

He propped his elbows on the table, and leaned forward, his shoulders drew up closer to his ears, and he studied me. I felt the heat return to my face. "How old are you?"

In my discomfort I did what I always did, resorted to my sharp tongue. "Are you going to tell me what this business-bullshit-deal is you have with Curly, or why it is you threatened me at gunpoint?"

His shoulders shrugged in a silent laugh. He narrowed his eyes in what seemed to be a habit of his, like there was some joke only he was in on. "I know you're young, despite all that makeup. So what is it, _hm,_ 16…17?"

"15." He whistled lowly. "Tell me."

He tilted his head, seeming to consider my demand. "I might, if you agreed to see me again."

I scoffed. "Very funny."

"I'm serious, what do you say?" My horrified expression seemed to amuse him, he got up out of his chair, and ran a hand down the front of his dress shirt. He came around to me and held out his hand, the old woman standing at the cash register narrowed her eyes at us.

I stood up without taking his hand, which made him grin, and walked out of the store ahead of him.

* * *

I directed Steele to two houses that weren't mine, before he finally convinced me to let him drop me off on my real street.

"Why would I want the guy who threatened to shoot me, to know where I live?" I muttered, annoyed, as Steele turned onto my road.

"How else will I know where to pick you up for our date?"

I opened the door before the car came to stop, and Steele only eased into the brakes, a last jab to provoke me.

Had I not stormed down the street, blinded by my temper, I would have seen the figures standing on my porch, watching me walk away from a stranger's car in different clothes than I left the house in. Anticipation tempted me to run straight past my address, and keep going until I was far enough away to never face my brothers again, but then I remembered what I had seen, and what I had done less than 24 hours before that, and I felt myself harden; afterall, the worst had already happened, long before that. It was the strangest feeling, like aging ten years in only 15 seconds.

"You were never at Evie's last night." Soda stared at me stonily, Ponyboy leaned on the porch railing next to him, puffing on a cancer stick.

"No, I wasn't." I replied to him, not bothering to halt my stride toward the door.

"Well, where the hell have you been then?"

I paused before I reached for the handle of the screen, mulling over what sort of truth to tell him. I looked up to meet his eyes, his brow furrowed at my calmness. "With the Shepards."

Ponyboy narrowed his eyes at me, most likely surprised at my honesty. Soda spoke again, "Whose car was that?"

"A stranger's, I hitched a ride."

"From where?"

"Sandy's."

Soda blinked, his lips parting slightly as his jaw went slack. Ponyboy went red, and looked angry enough to shove the butt of his cigarette down my throat, his cold, green, eyes flickered to Soda, and softened.

I didn't feel particularly angry, or vindictive, at least not toward either of my brothers, so I have no idea why the next words out of my mouth were so poisonous. I fingered the collar of Sandy's shirt I was wearing, then said, "This is hers, you can take it back to her if you want to say, hi."

Soda winced, and I felt nothing. _I felt nothing._


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

 _Ring_

 _They had fought the night before, and that morning. I knew that was the reason my father was shaking me awake at dawn on a weekend. I was too groggy to be able to make out any of the words leaving his lips, in that gentle hushed tone he used to whisper in. I must have whined when he pulled the covers down from my chin, because he chuckled and brushed a few baby hairs that clung to my cheeks._

 _"The boys are all up, I want you to come with us." I blinked my eyes hard twice, so that I could make out the details of his face, the thick worry line between his eyebrows, the stubble along his jaw he forgot to shave._

 _"It's too cold."_

 _He chuckled again. "Oh c'mon, you wouldn't stop pouting yesterday when I said you couldn't go."_

 _"No you didn't."_

 _His thumb that had been stroking the side of my face stilled. "What, baby?"_

 _"Mom was the one who said I couldn't, she wont like me goin'."_

 _"Oh, what does she know, she's never even been." He tried for an easy grin, the one that always worked on my brothers, but when my facial expression remained unchanged, he sighed. "Pretty soon you're gonna be a teenager, baby, and get yourself a boyfriend, and you won't want anything to do with your old man."_

 _I opened and closed my mouth. I was beginning to notice the sound of Soda and Darry's voices, travelling into my room from the bathroom, through my cracked door. They were doing a half-assed job at keeping their voices low, and there was no telling whether or not Ponyboy was with them, since he never talked. "I don't know how to shoot."_

 _His eyes lingered on mine, the ones I had inherited from him, as did Soda, leaving him no room to suspect any infidelity on my mother's part. It felt strange to stare into them like that. My mother was as far away from me appearance wise as seemed humanly-possible, with her blonde hair, button nose, dainty green eyes, like the dolls little white girls bought at the toy store. I never derived a sense of belonging from her face, because there was nothing of her I could see in my own. Looking at my father felt familiar, comfortable, like I was talking to a piece of myself. I wondered if he felt the same way. "I promise your brothers won't laugh at you. I bet you're a better shot than all of them combined."_

 _It took about 15 minutes of Darry incessantly micromanaging the rest of us, for dad to send my brothers down to the forest floor, to practice tracking and set rabbit traps. I was pretty sure Darry knew how to do zero of those things, but dad told them with so much confidence in his tone, none of them offered up a word of protest._

 _I sat in his lap, his broad chest chest cradling my thickly coated form, his arm coming around me to help stabilize the rifle that shook in my grip._

 _"We're gonna down a Buck, aren't we Lizzy, bring it back home to mom, she can mount the antlers in the living room." He said in my ear, knowing that it would make me laugh, which I did._

 _"No, she'd hate that." My chapped lips stretched uncomfortably as I smiled. "What if we don't see any?"_

 _"They're there, baby, it's all about noticing, noticing everything." He removed one of his hands from where it covered mine, and tilted my chin to a point further to the left, at a thicker cluster of trees. They rustled, sporadically, there must have been something alive wandering through them. "What's there, and what isn't. That's why Ponyboy's so good, he's got an artist's eye."_

 _My tongue stuck out past my lower lip, and dragged across my chin, as I scoured the woods below us for any sign of life. "Pony doesn't like it."_

 _"Sure he does."_

 _"No, he cries in his room after."_

 _My father stayed silent after that, but I paid it no mind. I was at an age when the weight of my words had no registry in my sympathies. I continued to shift my eyes to every visible corner of forest available to my sight, and I probably would have continued for hours. I wanted to be the one to shoot the buck, to show my brothers I was just as tough as them, to show my dad._

 _The next time he spoke, his pitch was low, and calm. "There."_

 _I opened my mouth to question him where, but the sound of the rifle discharging drowned out my voice. I flinched so hard I almost bit off my own tongue. The crack of the gunshot echoed all around us._

* * *

 _It was the night before I would ride the bus back to Tulsa, which is where my nerve manifested from. It was why Don was so eager too, usually he'd never dare try something while Jeanie was in the house, but he'd made the rash decision to sneak into my room well past midnight. He did look sorry, as he stood pressed against the wall, next to the door._

 _"Fuck, where'd you get that?" His eyes finally moved up to my face, away from the hunting rifle, which had sat next to my bed earlier that afternoon. I held it positioned against my ribcage, like my dad taught me._

 _"Your closet."_

 _His lips pressed together in an angry line. "What were you doin' in there?"_

 _"Lookin' for a gun."_

 _He raised his hands in between us, staggered in their positioning, the way a zookeeper might attempt to soothe a wild animal. He didn't take me seriously. "Lizzy, give me the gun, you don't wanna go wakin' up Jeanie, you know how many shifts she's been workin'." I raised the gun higher, and stepped close enough toward him that the tip brushed against his chin._

 _"What were you doin' in here? You_ fucker— _what the fuck were you gonna do?" The words left my mouth in a half-snarl, like I was either on the brink of screaming or crying._

 _He tilted his head back, away from the barrel of the gun, looking infuriatingly nonchalant as the back of his skull rested against the cornflower blue wallpaper. "You're leavin' so early tomorrow, say goodbye now, I won't be up when Jeanie takes you to the station."_

 _I felt it, for the first time in months, really properly angry. I took another step toward him, this time pressing the point up and into his throat. He stood on his tiptoes to try and move away from the discomfort, I held the stock so firmly between my torso and my bicep that my shoulders shook. "I'll kill you, you know that? I'll fuckin' blow your—"_

 _He slipped away quickly, and high-tailed it out the door, slamming it behind him. The bang of the the bolt locking in the strike plate echoed all around us._

* * *

The screen door creaked open, then shut too fast, the sound pinching my eardrums, like nails scraping along a chalkboard. Someone sat in the chair next to mine.

"You saw Sandy." Darry said from beside me, coolly, in his usual way.

I took another drag from the kool I had sucked half-dry, and let the nicotine slide the truth past my teeth. "Slept over at her house."

I expected him to be angry, but his voice remained level. "How far along was she?"

"She lost the baby." Silence followed, I didn't need to look at my brother's face to know he was chewing on that information, to imagine the gears turning in his head. I wouldn't tell him that Sandy was barren. Of all the things she told me, that felt like the true secret.

"On purpose?"

I shook my head, and put out my cigarette in the empty beer can next to me, courtesy of Two-Bit. "No."

Darry rested two fingers on my forearm when I reached for the pack. "Don't have another, I'm tryin' to breathe over here."

I turned to look at him, a smile tugging at the corners of my mouth. His expression was calm and serious, but I knew him well, when his nostrils flared like that it meant he was trying not to grin. It was the first time I had come that close to laughing since Tommy was killed.

"You gonna rip me a new one for associatin' with the enemy?"

Darry snorted, unimpressed. He tilted his head to consider it sarcastically. "I _should_ rip you a new one, for gettin' Soda riled up on purpose, but he's a big boy."

"You were worried the baby really was his, weren't you?"

"No."

"Then what?"

He turned back to meet my gaze. He had my father's face, and dark hair, which struck a well of nostalgia and longing in me, only to be muddled by the stranger's eyes that sat beneath his dark eyebrows. Mom claimed they were her father's, a wasp who made most of his profit during prohibition, out of West Virginia. They were icy, a crystal clear and glittering blue-green, and the reason my oldest brother always looked so focused, shrewd, even though his head was even thicker than mine. They were a stranger's eyes, half the time, and the other unexpectedly vulnerable.

"She'd come back ready to have it, and sucker him in all over again, for child support or—I don't know…"

I frowned and turned back to stare at the road, which seemed to be sweating in the heat. "Sandy ain't—"

"I know, I know, she ain't that trashy, but she did go and get knocked up with…with some random hood, so…" He attempted to let his words fade out again. He was smart enough to know his mistake, but not quick enough to catch himself before I did.

"You know who it was." He didn't answer. I didn't ask, and never would, because if Darry wouldn't say, then it must've been twisted and dirty. "How come you ain't on my case about it all?"

"The Shepards?" It was the only reason I brought it up at all, because at least that part of my life was all out in the open. Ponyboy had fessed up to Darry about most of it, to spite me for my dig at Soda. Although, Darry hadn't blown his top off, and driven to their house to break Curly's spine, so I was rest assured that he didn't know much about my love life.

He blew a large puff of air up toward his hairline, clenched and unclenched his hands, then knit them together in front of his ribcage. "I…don't know what the hell to do with you, Elizabeth." The words sounded strained. It was always hard for Darry to admit any ineptitude. "Ponyboy I'd…ground him for a week or two, have him scrub dishes…I ain't ever had to be your guardian before…tell you the truth, I never thought I'd have to."

"What do you mean?" I asked him, feeling genuinely confused.

"You never got into no trouble with dad."

I smiled at him incredulously, then scoffed. "Yeah, that's 'cause I was always in trouble with mom."

"Mom never got mad."

I furrowed my brow at him like he had grown two heads. "Well then, mom must've had an identical twin I didn't know about, who got dressed by fuckin' blue birds in the morning."

He poked me roughly in the shoulder. "Watch your mouth, lil' girl."

I brushed it off. "You mean y'all never knew?"

"About what?"

I rolled my eyes and leaned back into my chair in a huff. "Man, she used to make me go out and pick the switch, she'd wait till y'all was out and make me kneel on grits."

Darry burst into hysterical laughter. I'd only ever seen him laugh harder the time Soda went in to punt a field goal, and Two-Bit moved the ball out of the way at the last second. "You must've pulled some real shit to get her that pissed."

I rolled my eyes again, muttering a pouty, _whatever,_ when his laughter only continued.

* * *

 _"Elinor, come on." My father said, once my mother had dragged me fully into their bedroom by the wrist. The hairs on the back of my neck stood on edge, the only time I ever came into their bedroom was for my punishments._

 _"No, if she wants to go on these boys' trips, then there's no point in any of it." She released her grip on me and marched over to her bureau. She flung her hand out, holding the item out toward me when she turned back around. "Here's the dress I've been makin' for your birthday."_

 _"Elinor."_

 _"I even went to that nice fabric store downtown for this Glen Plaid." She shook it in my direction, her eyes haughty and round. "Go on, take it, Elizabeth."_

 _"Elinor, enough."_

 _My face burned, and I stared back at my mother. The corners of my mouth pulling down toward my jaw, I was on the verge of tears. "I'm sorry."_

 _"You won't be wearin' dresses anymore will you, Elizabeth? Throw this out, we'll just put her in some overalls and a bonnet, Darrell, everyone can think she's your little reservation bastard." My silence only made her angrier. "Throw it out." I shook my head, the lump in my throat growing. "Fine." The next thing I remember, she had taken a pair of scissors to it, until she became too impatient, then she started ripping the partially sewn dress from its stitches, with her hands. I started wailing, and my dad lurched toward her, grabbing her by the shoulders and stilling her destruction._

" _Lizzy, quit your cryin' and go to the kitchen." My father said sternly. I hurried through the cracked doorway, but lingered in the hall, not wanting my brothers to see my vulnerable state._

 _"She's yours, she's still yours, I'm sorry." I could barely make out my father's voice. It was as hushed and gentle as when he woke me up that morning. I thought I heard a quiet sob leave my mother. "I was just trying to spite you, and I'm sorry. C'mon, baby, we've got that buck out in the truck, how does venison sound for dinner? The boys'll be waiting."_

 _I had known that was the reason my father took me, and yet it still made fatter tears leak out of my eyes. I trotted back into my room, and collapsed on my bed into heaving sobs. I never went on any hunting trips after that, and the alone time I had with my father was slim to none._

* * *

Angela Shepard was at my window, and I had never seen her look so haggard. I had spent the rest of the afternoon on the porch, in and out of chain-like thoughts that swirled inside my head like a tornado. About Tommy, Sandy and Soda, about my parents. I eventually migrated back to my room when Darry said he would make dinner soon.

I started to pick up a dirty pair of underwear I left on the floor, when two short taps against my window made me nearly jump out of my own skin. When I saw her peering at me through the glass panes, I admit, I considered ignoring her.

"I need you to come with me somewhere." Her voice sounded husky, like she had been up all night weeping. The bags under her eyes were glaring.

"For what? I'm gonna tell you right now Angela, I ain't goin' nowhere near Curly and that creep, Steele."

"It's not that." She said vacantly, her blue eyes looked distant. "I…I think I'm in trouble."

"You think?" I looked back toward my doorway, worried that Darry would barge in without knocking. "My brothers are here. I have things I need to get back to."

"Please, Liz."

I looked at her, standing small and frail, wearing a sweater far too thick for the weather. _I could end it all,_ I thought, put a stop to my friendship with the Shepards right then and there. I could say goodbye to Angela, and we'd drift apart, because of Tommy's death and my return to Tennessee. I knew that whatever I had with Curly was dead, after the incident in Steele's storage compartment.

"Liz," the next words she would say would change it all. "I think I'm pregnant."

* * *

"Where are you goin'?" Darry questioned me, whilst getting a bag of frozen peas out of the icebox.

I considered lying to him, but what was the point anymore? "Angela needs me to go to the Pharmacy with her, she's…havin' some girl problems."

Darry grimaced and walked over to the stove. "She can't take care of that herself?"

I ran a hand through my hair. "Uh, she seemed pretty upset so…I feel like I should go with her, I'll be back in time for dinner, don't worry."

He fiddled with the plastic of the bag then turned back to me. "You better be, Lizzy, no late nights tonight. I'm gonna send Soda out lookin' for you if you ain't back in an hour."

I rolled my eyes, but nodded. "Yeah, OK." I turned to walk toward the door.

"Lizzy." I looked back at him, raising an eyebrow. "Thanks for tellin' the truth." I smiled, before he added, "And before I forget, someone called for you."

"Who?"

"Jeanie's husband, Don."

Blood drained out of my head, and I felt dizzy. Little golden lights danced at the corners of my vision. "What?"

Darry chuckled. "What's with you? We ain't in trouble with the state or nothin', he was just askin' how you were doin'."

I clenched my fists, maybe if I dug my nails into the flesh of my palm hard enough, I'd regain my wits. "H-he…did he…"

He shrugged. "Seemed like a nice guy, wanted to know what you though about livin' with him and Jeanie, if you'd liked it."

I could see it in his face, that the call set him at ease. Maybe that's why he was in such a good mood. To him Don was caring, conscientious, a man who was saddled with a stranger's child and was making the most of the situation—only partly true. It sickened me, the look on my brother's face. It felt as if my life in Tulsa was truly tainted, before Don was like a ghost, someone who only existed in my memories, and now his presence lingered in my parent's house, if only by a phone call.

"So, do you?"

"Do I what?" I managed to respond.

"Like it?"

* * *

 _Shooting and aiming the rifle around my body was too clunky for my father. He managed to hit the buck, but caught it in its gut. The creature was still alive by the time we tracked it on the ground, where it had managed to drag itself 50 yards away._

 _It lay in an opening beyond a thicket. It seemed to bark when it was first hit, before fleeing, and as it laid there in front of me, long and painful grunts left its throat._

 _"Shit," my father walked around to the top of its head, then motioned over to me. "Come here, Lizzy, let's put this guy out of his misery."_

 _It wasn't even midmorning yet, the light that filtered through the branches was gentle and forgiving. I could hear birds in the trees, surprisingly still energetic for late fall. Pony and I had talked about hunting for mushrooms on the way, I thought about the idea wistfully._

 _"Lizzy." I looked back to my father, his dark eyes secretive for once, as they considered me. He sighed, pointed his pistol, and the deer's lungs went still._

 _The gunshot echoed all around us._


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

 _Guise_

"It isn't that easy to get pregnant."

"How would you know, you ever try?"

I opened my mouth then closed it again before answering, "Everybody knows that…that's _why_ you have to try."

"What was that thing they used to do…pissed on some fucking grass to find out."

A chuckle came from deep in my chest, my shoulders lifted up off of Angela's carpet and dropped back down. "My mama always said she'd know when she started craving pickles."

"Sliced or whole?"

I laughed again. When she didn't, I turned my head to look at her. She sat propped against the edge of her bed, her eyes were unfocused and cast toward a spot above my head. I sighed, I needed to get back to my house. "You ain't pregnant, Angela, you just ain't."

She blinked, her throat bobbed as she swallowed. "I figure if you're wrong, all I need is to get my stepdad riled up and he'll take care of the miscarriage for me."

"Won't come to that."

"You don't know that."

I didn't have any reason to be angry with her, irritated maybe, but not angry. If I were an understanding person, I would've mulled over my observation and let her wallow. I never had been that person. I never would be that person. "Does that upset you?"

She looked at me then. "What?"

"You want to be pregnant don't you, just a little?"

"Fuck you, Liz."

I sat up and got to my feet, and loomed over her as I said, "Get the fuck over it, get the fuck over him, I've already got that creep Steele up my ass about the whole thing, we don't need you getting hysterical and blabbing to the cops when you never even liked him."

She looked up. I expected her to sock me in the stomach, to leap up and rip half of the hair out of my head. But when I looked into her eyes there was nothing new, only the same grief and exhaustion I'd seen since the night Tommy died. I felt sick. I took a step away from her, and tore my eyes away from hers. I started to turn toward the door, before I could open it she spoke, "You're right, I never did, most of the time I just wanted him to fuck off."

I opened the door and stepped out, then shut it without looking back.

* * *

"What do y'all want to do for the fourth?" Darry asked through a mouthful of mashed potatoes at dinner that night. I wanted to shoot him a sarcastic grin, but figured I needed to be as pleasant as possible since we'd sat in silence for half-an-hour already. Soda hadn't made eye contact with me yet, as opposed to Ponyboy who kept shooting me looks like he wished I'd burst into flames.

I shrugged and went back to dragging my fork across my plate. I wondered if I should offer to do the dishes, or if that would seem too fake, if Ponyboy would scoff in my face as he handed me his plate.

"We could go to the lake," I didn't look up when Soda spoke, "or grill out here with the rest of the gang and some firecrackers."

"Maybe the smartest combination would be lake and firecrackers, if _you're_ gonna use 'em." I could hear the amusement in Darry's voice.

"Hey, that was Lizzy who almost burned the house down last time." Then I did look up, and I could see the earnest and warmth in his dark brown eyes. My throat felt thick, and I wondered how I could be so dismissive toward my second oldest brother, that I could honestly believe he'd be nasty to me after every sour word I'd shot his way. That wasn't Soda.

"Nearly got away with blamin' it on you too." I smiled back at him.

Soda looked content, "Two-Bit'll like the lake idea better, all kinds of girls in bikinis for him to pick up."

"All kinds for you to shoot firecrackers at too. Didn't that used to be your favorite move?"

He knocked me in the shoulder.

* * *

I heard the screen door open while I sat on the porch later that night. I knew who it was.

"Where do you get the dough to buy so many of those?" Soda nodded at my pack of kools. I took a drag from the one already lit between my middle and index finger, then cocked an eyebrow at him. He smirked, "Oh right, right, I forgot you've been cozying up to the Shepards these days."

"What do you mean?"

I stared at him, the headlights of a car struck the right side of his profile as it cruised down our street. I could see the lines on his face more clearly, worry lines that hadn't been there before I left. He tapped my wrist and his eyes darted down to my pack. Once he had lit one up he turned to me expectantly. I felt something icy in my stomach, did he know? About the robberies, about Tommy, about Steele? I was pig-headed when it came to Soda, like most everybody else. I had always thought that if one of them were to catch me it'd be Ponyboy, Darry was too busy with work and other adult things.

"You are so lucky I didn't say nothin' to Dar with the way you been talkin' to me lately." I stayed silent, and he furrowed his brow at that. "Shit, what's up with you? What the hell do you think I'm gonna say?"

I shrugged, "I don't know. You've been catchin' me by surprise ever since I got back."

"You and Curly Shepard, I mean, sweetheart, don't tell me you thought that was insider knowledge, now." I started cursing before he finished his sentence, heat racing up my neck.

"Two-Bit said something didn't he?"

Soda studied my face, something glinted in his eyes. "Well no...cocky little bastard was tellin' anyone with two working ears at Buck's for a while, then at the Ribbon. Heard it from a couple of buddies of mine."

I scoffed. "Yeah, well…that's over, that's long, long over."

"Sorry if I don't take your wo—"

"Soda," he breathed heavily out of his nose, and put out the half-burned cigarette. I wished he would look at me. "I know…shit, if you were to ever believe a word I've said, Curly and I…just the whole things been ruined, you see. There ain't ever gonna be anything there ever again, for as long as I live, alright? Hell, I was just…I don't know…bored."

He chuckled. "You know I got Steve to come with me one night, all riled up and ready to put my foot up his ass," he opened and closed his mouth, then looked at me hesitantly, "listen, I believe you, and if you're gonna be tellin' me the truth right now, Lizzy, then I…"

The icy feeling in my gut returned. "What?"

"I found him in a back room…never seen somebody that gone before. I guess he's been doin' smack…is that why…Lizzy…"

I almost baulked in his face, or burst into laughter. "No, if he was shootin' up he never told me."

"You see Lizzy I knew that kid, I knew him his whole life, watched all the stupid shit he'd do to impress his brother. But I didn't recognize that person, couldn't even lift himself off of the bed when he saw me comin'."

I looked away from him, at the paint and wood chipping off from our porch, at the dust accumulating on the sides of Darry's windshield. "Yeah, must've been a sight."

"I thought you were gonna be tellin' the truth."

"You didn't ask me a question."

"Lizzy."

I lit up another cigarette. There was no telling what else Curly had blabbed about, surely there were a handful or more people who knew about the robberies, though that seemed like loaded enough information that it really might've been something Curly was rational enough to keep secret. Maybe Soda had known this whole time, maybe he was waiting for me to confess before he went to tell Darry. Maybe he did know about Tommy, and he'd been playing me since he joked around with me at dinner.

"What did you mean when you said it was all ruined?"

I exhaled smoke, and tried to sound embarrassed. "Do we gotta talk about this Soda, you really want me to give you the nitty gritty of me and Curly?" I turned to him expectantly, as if my half-assed attempt was enough to disinterest him. He said nothing. "Curly was…wantin' to get serious or something else stupid, and was…was in with a bad crowd of people and he always wanted me to come and hang out with 'em, so I just thought I might as well get out before things got messy. Clearly I was right."

"I can go and have a conversation about this with Darry this second if you don't start fessin' up."

I turned to him coldly. "I am. Every word I've told you is true, Soda, every single one."

"Who were the people he was gettin' involved with?"

"Out-of-towners, probably the same people dealin' him smack. I wasn't gonna wait and find out…isn't that enough?"

I supposed that the warmth he'd been adopting with me earlier really was a ploy, because now he felt as distant as ever. He stood up and brushed off the front of his jeans. "It'll be enough so long as we don't have any drama with social services, so long as that crowd don't turn up on our front por—"

"You honestly think I'm bummin' around with heroin dealers now?" I asked incredulously.

He cast a guarded look down toward me. "I don't know what to think about you these days. But I'm hopin' you put this family first. Pony and I could still get sent to a boy's home, you know that right?"

"That would be the worst thing, wouldn't it? Being sent away."

He turned away from me. "Don't be selfish." He shut the door behind him.

* * *

The next day I headed to the DX around lunchtime to get a Pepsi. If I wanted Soda to quit being suspicious of me then I needed him to think I wasn't angry, that I wasn't scared of getting caught. Besides, I wouldn't be spending much time with Angela or Curly anymore, and there wasn't much else to do around the house except watch Ponyboy do sit-ups and push-ups to get back in running shape.

There was a tuff looking blood-red car parked at one of the pumps. A dark-haired young man around Darry's age climbed out of the driver's seat, and I almost hissed and bolted when I saw his face.

Steele's pearly white smile lit up when he saw me, and he laughed out loud and clutched his stomach. "OK, it's got to be fate now, princess."

I growled, and hesitated a good ten seconds before briskly walking over to him. The way he grinned down at me made my cheeks burns, but did nothing to quell my irritation. "Keep your voice down and quit lookin' at me like that, my brother works here."

Steele raised his eyebrows and turned to look at the garage behind him. "Oh, he does, does he? Maybe I should go say hi and ask if it'd be alright for me to take you out this Friday."

I raised my arm to punch him in the shoulder, but lowered it just as quickly. Something told me he wouldn't maintain his good humor if I took any swipes at him. "Like you didn't know that already, you've probably been followin' me around the past two days."

He blew out a puff of air that just barely fluttered the bangs around his eyebrows. He stuffed his hands into the pockets of his slacks, then said sarcastically, "You caught me, you're just so sweet Elizabeth Curtis I coul—"

"Fuck off." I groaned and stormed toward the main shop. As I got closer to the garage, the sound of his laughter was drowned out by Steve's drilling.

I walked straight to the refrigerator to grab my Pepsi, and barely said anything to the gangly middle-schooler behind the counter. I couldn't remember what Soda had told me his name was, Gabe or something like that. Once I got my drink I turned to look out the windows of the shop, hoping Steele had already gone, but he sat leaned against the side of his mustang. Soda must've already filled him up, because Steele handed him a wad of cash and the two exchanged grins before my brother lumbered off back to the garage. It sounded like he and Steve had a number of repairs to do.

Steele moved to dig around in his pocket for something, and then suddenly turned back to look at me through the window and smirked. Idiot. It was too bright outside for him to be able to see anything through the glass except his own reflection. Come to think of it, maybe that was why he was grinning so big.

I took a gulp of my soda before walking outside, no doubt he would've waited until I came back outside.

If I was smart I would've walked toward the back and looped around back to my house from that side, or I would've wandered into the garage despite how much it would annoy Steve with how busy they were. Instead I boldly strode back the way I came. I wouldn't let Steele think he could scare me away at my brother's place of work.

He chuckled at me. "I thought you'd be back to get my number."

"Yeah, right."

"Maybe I'll see you later, you and Curly have any big plans for Buck's tonight?"

I flipped my hair over my shoulder as I walked past him. "No, but you're gonna be over there to stick the needle in his arm, won't you?" That was the wrong thing to say, I knew that even before he grabbed me by my bicep.

"Actually he prefers it between his toes." Then before I knew it he was helping me into the front seat of his car. I barely had time to move over to the passenger side window before he had moved in beside me and pressed the gas pedal to the floor.

As we pulled out onto the main road I looked back toward the DX, hoping that Soda, or Steve, or even Gabe-what's-his-name had noticed the altercation. But as nobody came running out into the parking lot to get the plates on Steele's car, I figured I was out of luck.

I should've screamed, I should've screamed or something when he shoved me into his car. I should've leapt across the row to open the passenger side door. I should've done a lot of things differently.

* * *

"What the fuck are you doing?"

"If you're gonna go throwing out little assumptions like that, baby, then it's time you and I have a conversation, there's a pretty good steakhouse a couple of miles away, and," he turned to eye me up and down, "you don't look too shabby right now."

"Look Steele, I'm not—I don—"

"You already put it out there, didn't you? Quit scrambling, bolder suits you better."

I turned to glare at him, my anger calming my anxiety. "I'll jump out of your car, I'll barrel roll, I don't give a fuck."

He didn't fully turn his head to look at me, his chin tilted slightly up. It was hard to tell if he was smiling or smirking, but the way his eyes seemed to burn against the coppery-glow of his skin made me feel woozy. "No you won't or you would've done it by now. If you really wanted out of any of this you would've called the cops that night that Tommy died, you would've stayed far away from the Shepards, and you would've gotten your big brothers to teach me a lesson, isn't that right?" My cheeks burned. "You could stop this anytime, baby, so I don't think you hate me half as much as you'd like. I don't think you hate me at all."

When I didn't say anything he nodded and turned back to the road.

* * *

Steele's animosity and sarcasm seemed to simmer as my own did. I didn't speak at all the rest of the way to the restaurant. Not that I really believed he was taking me out to a restaurant. I thought he might drive us back to the ominous storage compartment he owned, or maybe take me to Angela's house. I never would have been able to predict that the place Steele would bring the car to a stop was in front of a Baptist church, about ten minutes north of my neighborhood.

I turned to Steele. "Isn't this a bit much?"

"I've seen your home. I thought I'd share something with you." He said soberly. I followed him as he exited the car, and we walked through the white double doors and into the lobby of the building. I began to get worried that Steele might be an extremely pious Christian, and that he would lead me to the front pews of the sanctuary. It was a Wednesday afternoon, there was no service in session, but I was wary nevertheless.

He stopped at the third pew from the back and held an arm out for me to step in first. He took a seat next to me, and looked toward the altar.

"Why did you bring me here?"

He didn't answer me right away. I couldn't help but think that he actually looked kind of handsome when he wasn't grinning to make me squirm. He didn't grease up his dark hair the way the rest of the boys in my neighborhood did, he made an attempt to keep his neatly styled back, but his bangs were long so they fell past his ears to frame his face.

"Why do you think I have anything to do with Curly's little drug habit?"

"I guessed. He wasn't doin' that shit when I was with him."

He smiled. "I never thought you two were official."

"We weren't, but when we were…seeing each other, I guess. Most he ever did was smoke a joint."

"Which still doesn't answer my question."

"Figured you'd want him dependent on you, I don't know."

"You think that little of me?"

"Well I met you because you came to dispose of a corpse," He laughed, "so, maybe."

"We have more in common than you think."

I sighed. "My dad was half-Cherokee, I didn't grow up on the res or nothing."

"Neither did I, not really." I shot him a look of confusion. "My father died when I was little, drinking is what my mother told me. And uh, she went missing before I was eight, everybody said it must've been some white guys from Oklahoma City or here, or some other bumfuck-Oklahoma-town, or Texas. I don't know." He ran his palms up and down his pants. "I spent a couple of years looking, but, cops and hospitals don't care enough to keep records about our kind."

I looked down at my lap. "I'm…I'm sorry about that."

He nodded. "Well, I didn't have anybody else I could live with, so I went to live in a boys home in Oklahoma City for a while, crazy fuckers. Bounced around after that, an old Baptist couple took care of me in Tulsa for a couple years, they were the only people who didn't look forward to giving me the strap."

"Curly told you that my parents died, then...that I was sent away."

"He did. But I've always thought I could recognize someone like me."

"Well, I'm luckier than you were. I live with a cousin and I never get the strap."

His voice sounded lower, and he looked at me out of the corner of his eye again. This time his expression seemed somber. "You get something else then?"

I flinched, and clasped my hands together in my lap. I turned my gaze away from him to look at the stained glass windows to my left. Scenes of the nativity, of the Virgin Mary and her son, and angels and holiness. I would tell myself after that the reason I didn't lie was because it felt so wrong to do in a church, but that's not quite right. He had a charisma that compelled me to honesty.

"One of my foster sisters…well you remind me of her. It happens all over, doesn't it?"

I shook my head and felt tears start to well in my eyes. The last time I was in a place of worship was for my parents' funeral, my mind felt clouded.

"You put two and two together, good for you."

"How long di—"

"No." When I looked back toward him, he closed his mouth, his eyes softened a bit. "No, we're not doin' that."

"Are you going back?'

I wiped away a few stray tears that had leaked down along my cheeks. "Of course I am. The state says my brothers can't take care of me. I'll be 16 soon, and then two more years and I'm free."

He looked at me with a knowing expression. "You know I wasn't joking around when I said I wanted to take you out."

"Could've fooled me."

He chuckled and stood up, extending a hand to me. I took it that time. "Ain't you gonna pray before we leave?"

He seemed to consider this and turned to look back at the altar again, at the cross. He ran a hand through his hair and a mocking smile spread across his face. "I never was a Christian."

He turned and strode past the pews and into the lobby. "Aren't you going to tell the cops I covered up your friend's death, and got your boyfriend hooked on smack?" Something about his voice sounded cold. I stopped before we reached the doors.

Steele must've heard the halt in my footsteps and turned to look at me. Some warmth returned to his smile and he laughed. "C'mon I'm just messing with you, let's get you home." He didn't wait for my response, or wait for my expression to change before he opened the doors, and the bright light of the afternoon enveloped him.


End file.
